The Bat: Vol 1: Origins Redux
by Benjamin J Brown
Summary: AU. The beginning of my volumed DC fic universe gets an overhaul. I own nothing. Bruce Wayne lived a privileged life, until the night when a madman murdered his parents in front of him. In the wake of his parents' death, Bruce would make both allies and enemies, on his road to becoming Gotham's defender, the Batman. This is the story of his early years.
1. Early Years

**Okay, so here's the first chapter of the Redux of** _ **The Bat: Volume One: Origins.**_ **I actually used the original first chapter as my starting point here, with a few changes made, before beginning expanding the ending in a way that may go on for a few chapters, giving us Bruce's growing up. While my original version gave Batman by chapter three, well, don't expect him until a while after that this time. I hope you all enjoy this and would love to hear any** _ **constructive**_ **criticism you might have. B.**

 **...**

Bruce Wayne never wanted for anything in his early years. As the only son of Thomas and Martha Wayne and sole heir to the Wayne family fortune, he could always have what he wanted. He never really had anything to worry about either.

Until the day. It was August 12th, 1994. Bruce had been eight years old when he was out playing with his friend, Tommy. It was your usual kids game, hide and seek, and he had got the perfect spot; there was a boarded up well on the grounds of his home, Wayne Manor. He'd climbed into it, crouching so his eyes were just level with the top of the well. It wasn't until he moved that he heard it; the boards creaking under his weight.

He moved to climb out, but it was too late. The boards gave way underneath him, causing him to fall through into the well. Fortunately, the drop hadn't been a huge one, about seven or eight feet. Not enough to cause lasting damage since he'd been crouched, but enough to twist his ankle. As he moved his leg round to try and see it, the bats came, flying at him, circling but not attacking.

He cried out in a mixture of fear and pain before beginning to call for help. It was about ten minutes before Tommy found him and then another five before a rope ladder was thrown down. A moment later, his father descended down the ladder. He felt Bruce's leg, checking for any kind of break or fracture. Then, he picked Bruce up and climbed back up the rope ladder, Bruce hanging onto his neck.

That was the day Bruce Wayne's father also became his hero.

...

It had been four months since Bruce had fallen into the cave, and the day was his mother's 40th birthday, December 8th, they went to the theatre, to see a production of Zorro, which Bruce knew was more for him than her. Despite it being one of his favourites, Bruce ended up falling asleep. That was when he had the nightmare.

He was running down a corridor of some kind of hospital. The walls all had crumbling paintwork and there were a number of cells with people with a number of different deformities; some had only one eye, others had terrible scarring and others had missing limbs.

He realised then by the sound of foot steps behind him that he was being chased. He turned his head to look back and saw the thing chasing him.

It was an almost Human figure, only things were wrong with it that made it not Human. In fact, it made it terrifying, especially to him.

The figure had pointed ears on top of it's head and a leathery scalloped cloak, giving it the appearance of a humanoid bat. Bruce found himself screaming as he woke up.

"Bruce, what's wrong?" His mother said.

"N-nothing." Bruce said "Bad dream, that's all."

"Do you want to go home?" She asked him.

"No, I don't want to ruin your birthday." He replied.

"Don't be silly." She said "I've got my family and they're healthy, that's all I need. Come on Thomas, we're going."

"Okay." Thomas replied "Come on Bruce."

The three of them walked out of the theatre. They walked down a back alley, not paying attention to the tall, thin young man leant against the wall having a cigarette. He had a thin face and slicked back dark hair. He was wearing a black suit with white shirt and bowtie. There was a green flower on the jacket lapel.

As Bruce and his parents walked down the alleyway, he heard the sound of someone walking behind them. As he turned, he saw the young man was stood there. The man quickly moved around the three of them and stood in front of them, grinning maniacally.

"Why hello." He said, his voice slightly higher than Bruce would have expected "I see you're out enjoying this fine evening. How was the show?"

Before they could answer, he pulled a revolver out from inside his jacket, pointing it at the three of them.

"You all seem to be a little lost for words." He said, noticing the look of fear on Bruce's mother's face "My dear, don't worry. As long as you and your husband hand over your money, jewellery, watches and other valuables, this will all be over soon."

"Okay, just take it easy." Thomas said, pulling his wallet out from his inside pocket "There, now take it and go."

"Okay then." The man said, adding "Shame about those pearls."

"What?" Thomas asked, right before the man shot him with a maniacal laugh.

"Thomas!" Bruce's mother screamed before being shot as well.

The man pointed the gun at Bruce. As he did, there was the sound of sirens; the police had turned up. The man put the gun in his pocket and waved in a comedic manner.

"See you around, kid." He said before running off down the alley.

Bruce crouched beside his parents, sobbing. He looked at his mother, who had stopped breathing, and at his father, whose eyes were wide open, his breathing shallow.

"Bruce…" He said "Don't ever be afraid… of people like that…"

As he said that, his body fell limp. Bruce was left alone, beside his parent's lifeless bodies, crying. When the man in the grey suit with the moustache and red hair with flecks of grey came running and tried helping him up, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave them.

But there was no one there to leave. Bruce Wayne's parents were dead. And a part of him had died with them.

...

Bruce sat in the GCPD Station, his father's coat draped over him like a blanket. The building was freezing, and he was shivering, more than he ever had in his life. The Officer who'd brought him, a Detective James Gordon, had tried to get the information of what had happened out of him. Bruce hadn't been able to properly explain it. He couldn't bring himself to tell the Detective what had happened, about the man, or that it had been because of him he and his parents had left the theatre.

It was his fault his parents were dead. He wasn't a victim here. He was as guilty as the man who'd shot them, as far as he was concerned. Finally, someone he knew walked in. The man had short cropped black hair that showed signs of greying, a pair of thick rimmed glasses, and a pencil moustache. He wore a well fitted black tailored suit, with a white shirt and a black tie, a long grey overcoat slung over his arm and an umbrella in his hand.

"I'm Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne's butler." The man said to Gordon in a thick London accent "I've come to bring the boy home."

"Mr. Pennyworth, thank you for coming." Gordon said, shaking Alfred's hand "I'd love to let you take him home, but he's a witness to a double homicide. We need to know what he saw."

"He's an eight year old boy who just lost his parents!" Alfred snapped without warning, taking both Bruce and Gordon aback somewhat "I'm sorry, Detective. It's just... Thomas Wayne wasn't just my employer, he was my friend. With his parents gone, I'm all the lad has. Please, let me take him home, clean him up, give him a good meal and try to let him get some sleep. You can come by in the morning. I presume you know where Wayne Manor is?"

"Who in Gotham City doesn't..." Gordon murmured, looking at Alfred for a moment, then Bruce, then back to Alfred "Okay, Mr. Pennyworth. Take the boy home. I'll call tomorrow to set up an interview time at your earliest convenience."

"Thank you." Alfred said, moving over to Bruce and crouching down facing him "Master Bruce? Do you feel up to coming home?"

Bruce said nothing, shaking his head instead. Alfred paused for a moment, before hugging the boy slightly awkwardly, feeling Bruce begin to cry into his shoulder.

"There, there, lad." Alfred said "Everything's going to be alright."

"It's my fault." Bruce said quietly into Alfred's shoulder "If I hadn't made them leave, if I'd just been braver, if I'd-"

"Hey, it's nothing you did, sir." Alfred said, leaning back and smiling at Bruce "It was only him. Can you describe him for Detective..."

"Gordon. James Gordon." Gordon said, moving over towards Bruce, getting a nod in response "Thank you, Bruce. Now, my name's Jim, and I'd like to be your friend. As your friend, I'd like you to tell me who did this to your parents, so I can bring them to justice. Can you do that?"

Bruce swallowed hard, before nodding, being led to the Interview room by the hand by both Alfred and Gordon.

...

Bruce and Tommy sat in one of the living rooms of Wayne Manor, a fire burning in the fireplace whilst they sipped cocoa. Tommy's mother was in the kitchen with Alfred, who was re-applying a dressing on her leg; Tommy's parents had been in a severe car crash with Tommy in the back a couple of weeks before Bruce's parents had been murdered. It was only because of Bruce's father's work in surgery that Tommy's mother had survived. Now, on Christmas Eve, she'd offered to come over with Tommy for the Holiday, since it would be both boys' first Christmas without their fathers.

"Bruce, can I ask you something?" Tommy said, adding quickly "It's okay if you say no."

"Okay." Bruce said, apprehensively "What's up, Tommy?"

"Well, I lost my Dad, but yours saved my Mom." Tommy began "I just wanted to know, what's it like? To lose them both?"

"I didn't lose them. They were taken from me." Bruce said coldly "I'd like to change the subject, please."

"Sure..." Tommy said, noting the change in his friend's tone "Sorry..."

The two boys sat up well past midnight, continuing to discuss things, but Tommy could see that Bruce was different. He was less humorous, less filled with joy. It was almost like someone had removed his heart and replaced it with a dark void, that only seemed to allow the smallest glimmers of light through. He wasn't the same friend Tommy had known, and Tommy couldn't help but smile at that.

Bruce had been boring before anyway.

...

Bruce walked into the kitchen of Wayne Manor, grabbing a carton of juice from the fridge and taking a swig from it. He was glad Alfred wasn't there; over the five years since Bruce's parents' murder, Alfred had caught him doing that a dozen times, and each time, he gave Bruce a lecture on hygiene.

There'd been a couple of occasions recently where it had happened, where Bruce had responded to the quiet, polite chewing out Alfred had given him with loud shouting back. He never meant the words spoken in anger, but he always felt bad afterwards.

Alfred had been like a father to him since his parents' died, and at times, like a surrogate father even before that. He'd been the one who taught Bruce how to ride a bike, who'd taken him to school, and who'd taught him to cook, even if it was only a full English breakfast, or 'fry up' as Alfred called it.

Granted, his father did those things occasionally, and it had been his father who taught him how to fish, who'd taken him camping all those times and who had come with his mother to pick Bruce up from school as often as his work at the hospital allowed, but it was Alfred who was always there when Thomas or Martha were busy, with either business or philanthropic work.

He stood there thinking about it, before hearing footsteps outside. He quickly ran to the fridge, putting the juice back in the door and closing it as the door into the kitchen opened, Alfred, now having gone grey, stepping through, followed by now-Lieutenant Gordon.

"Oh good, he's in here." Alfred said, smirking at something Bruce was probably not aware of due to his age "Master Bruce, you remember-"

"Lieutenant Gordon, yes." Bruce said, shaking Gordon's hand "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Please, call me Jim." Gordon replied, reaching into the brown overcoat he wore and withdrawing an envelope inside, handing it to Bruce "We recently apprehended a man named Jack Napier, alias Joe Chill. He's been leading a group of crooks called the Red Hood gang for the last three years. We caught him, and his description matches the description you gave us of the man who killed your parents. One of his Lieutenants, a William 'Willis' Todd, said Napier told him about killing a billionaire and his wife outside the Monarch Theatre, so we may have him dead to rights. That letter contains all the information on the trial date. I thought you might want to be there."

"Provided it won't be too dangerous." Alfred butted in before Bruce could respond "And it's _not_ a school day."

"Alfred, this is my parents' killer." Bruce shot Alfred a stern look before turning to Gordon "I'll be there, thank you, Jim."

"No problem. There's a photo of him in there too, save you coming for a red herring." Gordon said "Have a nice day, Bruce. Alfred."

"Lieutenant." Alfred responded as Gordon walked out, waiting until he's gone "Master Bruce-"

"Don't start Alfred." Bruce cut him off, his tone aggressive "I'm going."

"No, sir, I wouldn't dream of stopping you from going. My comment about not if it's a school day was a joke." Alfred said, before smirking "But I thought you should know, you have a yellow upper lip."

...

Bruce sat in the court between Alfred and Gordon for the seventh day out of the last two weeks, having started two months after Gordon had informed Bruce of the trial, which began on February 20th, the day after Bruce's fourteenth Birthday. There'd been talk of Willis Todd having been the Wayne's killer, and of Todd being the real ringleader of the Red Hood gang, but it was Napier Bruce recognised from that night. He watched as the Judge, Christopher Dent, began to talk about his ruling.

"This case has been difficult. It first fell on my desk two and a half months ago, and to say it's taken me a long time to review all the facts that have been presented in this case would be an understatement." Dent began "Jack Napier, please rise."

Napier, positioned at the front with his hair slicked back and wearing a purple suit, stood up, putting his hands behind his back.

"Jack Napier, on the count of conspiracy to defraud and rob the people of Gotham, you are found guilty. On the count of the double murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne, two of this city's finest benefactors, you are found _not_ guilty. The defendant is to be remanded in custody for six days until sentencing can be passed. Court is adjourned."

"No!" Bruce yelled, shooting up as Dent slammed his gavel "It was him! Jack Napier killed my parents, I was there!"

"Mr. Wayne, court is dismissed." Dent said "Now, please leave or I will have no choice but to find you in contempt of this court!"

"I find this court in contempt!" Bruce spat "This isn't justice. This is a farce! Everyone in Gotham knows the Red Hood gang was connected to-"

"Come on, Bruce. Apologies for the outburst, your honour" Gordon said, grabbing Bruce by the shoulder and beginning to walk out, waiting until they were outside before saying quietly "You're right, Bruce. Everyone does know the Red Hood gang works for Falcone. It was how I came onto them that night, investigating him. But you start yelling it in open court, you're going to get yourself killed."

"It's not fair." Bruce said, welling up "He did it, and now he's going to end up with, what, a few years in prison?"

"What would you prefer, the death penalty?" Gordon asked "Bruce, killing isn't justice. It doesn't make up for what they've done. They need to be put away, yes, but killing them is an empty gesture."

"And what about Willis Todd?" Bruce asked "We both know he's going to end up being killed for a crime he didn't commit."

"I won't let that happen." Gordon said, smiling at Bruce "He will stand trial for the crime he committed, and maybe he will go to prison for the murder of your parents, but he will be protected by the guards. They won't let Napier or Falcone get to him."

Bruce said nothing, just turning and walking out. He needed some air, to clear his head. He hadn't got justice that day, and it wasn't fair. The system was broken, and he needed to work out how to fix it.

...

A few hours later, just after eleven PM, Bruce stood on the top of the hillside on the grounds of Wayne Manor that his parents were buried on, looking at their graves. He came out here when he needed to think. The sounds of the bay over the cliff, and the view of the lighthouse on the old Arkham island, were relaxing to him. After that farce of a trial, he needed to relax.

"I'm sorry." He finally spoke to his parents' grave "I told myself after your funeral that I'd help them bring the man who killed you to justice. I failed. Because of some mob boss!"

Bruce moved over to the tree beside the graves, kicking the tree before rubbing his foot in pain as he sat down. He looked out over the bay, watching the lighthouse for a moment before turning back to the grave.

"Now I'm making you a new promise, one that I'll keep." He began "I promise you that this won't happen to anyone else. No one will lose their family to crime, no one will be a victim of a corrupt justice system. I'll bring them all to justice. No one else will become a victim."

He stood up, looking at the moon. As he did, he saw a silhouette in the moonlight; a bat, flying in the wind.

"That's it. One day, the criminals of this city will fear me. But not as Bruce Wayne. As the thing I fear, the thing that got you both killed." Bruce said "I will become a bat."

 **...**

 **So, here's chapter one of the redone version of Volume one of the Bat. It's about three times longer than the original opening, and has a lot more depth regarding Bruce's early years. R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	2. Travels Year One: Central City Part One

Bruce walked into Wayne Manor. He'd just had his graduation ceremony at the Gotham Academy. Tommy hadn't bothered to come; apparently, he was off to Star City University, and he'd decided to move to the city early. Their friend, Harvey Dent, son of the Judge who'd presided over Napier's trial, had been at the ceremony, but had snuck off with a blonde, Vicki something.

As he switched on the light, he saw confetti fly everywhere, as several people jumped up with a collective yell of "Surprise!"

"What's going on?" Bruce asked, seeing Harvey walk over to him, offering him a beer which Bruce held a hand up to "No thanks. What's going on?"

"Alfred told me you were going travelling for the summer, so I decided to throw the class valedictorian a going away party." Harvey said "With a little help from Alfred."

"You must've got half the class here." Bruce said "How'd you swing that without me noticing?"

"You're not half the detective you like to think." Harvey laughed as he took a sip from his own beer whilst setting the one he'd picked up for Bruce down "What time do you set off in the morning?"

"Six. My flight's at eight." Bruce replied "So I'd like an early night."

"Come on, Bruce." Harvey said "You won the karate tournament they put on at the school on two hours sleep, after a chemistry exam. You can get away with burning the candle at both ends."

Bruce sighed. Harvey thought he did all those late nights and extra-curricular activities for fun. He hadn't been in chemistry club, karate club, judo club, the gymnastics team and the track team for fun. It was practice. He'd meant what he'd said at his parents' grave after the trial. He was going to stop those criminals that would make victims of others, no matter the cost to himself.

"I'll stay for an hour, but then you all need to go." Bruce said, sternly "I want to check the Wayne Enterprises books before I leave."

"I thought you had one of your father's associates acting as your stand in?" Harvey asked "Lucy Fox or something?"

"Lucius Fox." Bruce corrected "I signed the papers enabling him to vote for us both in board meetings, and naming him CEO of the company the day after my 18th birthday, when I officially inherited the company. Doesn't mean I don't still like to check things over."

"You know, you _can_ take some time to have fun." Harvey said, smirking "Pretty sure it won't kill you."

"Okay, well, listen, you go find Vicki or whatever her name was, have your fun." Bruce said, slapping Harvey on the shoulder "I should probably go schmooze."

Bruce walked away, picking up the beer Harvey had got him as he did. He took a swig of the liquid into his mouth as he turned the corner towards one of the bathrooms, holding it there. Once the door was closed and locked, he spat it out into the toilet bowl. If he had a beer in hand and breath that smelt of it, people wouldn't keep asking if he wanted one.

He flushed the toilet, stepping outside and receiving a slap on the shoulder from a guy he was pretty sure was from the football team. He didn't really socialise with many people; this party, with about forty people, was the largest social group he'd seen in a long time.

He turned the corner, trying to get away from the party, retreating into the study.

He hadn't been in the room since before his parents' murder. It had always been his father's sanctuary, with its oak walls and plush red carpeting. Alfred had kept it clean and tidy, but Bruce could still smell the scotch his father used to drink whilst working late, a fifty year old single malt.

He set his beer down on the table, moving to the small drinks table in the corner, opening the glass decanter with the brown liquid, pouring a small amount into a glass. He turned to the fireplace, where a family portrait, taken about two months before his parents' deaths hung. He raised the glass at the portrait.

"Here's to you." He said simply, knocking the drink back and choking on it as he felt the burning sensation of it going down his throat, saying hoarsely to himself "That's it, not drinking again."

He set the glass down on the desk, before seeing light pour in as someone opened the door and entered. A moment later, the lights were turned on, Bruce squinting for a second before his eyes adjusted.

"Bruce Wayne," The voice of a man said as Bruce's vision refocused, a man in his early fifties with red, slicked back hair and a beard stood in front of him wearing a business suit and holding a leather bound book "you probably don't remember me, do you? I was a school friend of your father's. My name is-"

"Lionel Luthor." Bruce interjected, nodding to a photo on the desk showing a younger Luthor with Alfred and Bruce's parents on their wedding day "You were at their wedding?"

"Yes." Lionel said, holding the book out to Bruce "Happy graduation, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce, please." Bruce said, looking at the book for a second "The Art of War. Is this what Lex reads at college?"

"I should hope so, I gave him a copy as a graduation present, just as I gave your father a copy at our graduation." Lionel said with a smirk, moving over to the drinks tray and pointing to the decanter "May I?"

"Please." Bruce said, setting the book down "So what can I do for you, Mr. Luthor?"

"Can't I make a social call on my dead friend's son the night of his graduation?" Lionel responded as he poured himself a drink, taking a swig "1944 single malt. Your father always did have good taste."

"Mr. Luthor, I have to assume you have a purpose here other than to give me a book." Bruce said with a small smile "Can I ask what it is?"

Lionel stood there for a moment, a look of shock on his face. Finally, his face broke into a broad grin.

"Yes. My son shows little interest in keeping Luthorcorp a medical research company, feeling the future is in weapons." Lionel said "I want to retire, Bruce, and wanted to know if you'd like to buy my company? I'll even give you, what is it they call it in England, 'mates rates,' as a courtesy to your father."

"Mr. Luthor, I'm flattered." Bruce said, quickly thinking about his next words "However, in case you haven't heard, I actually employ someone else to run my company for me. I don't want to buy into another. Thank you for the offer though."

Lionel's smile faltered for a moment before returning. He downed the rest of his glass, setting it on the desk beside Bruce's. He held his hand out to Bruce.

"Fair enough, Bruce. I respect your candour. Take care." Lionel said as Bruce shook his hand "It's just a shame Lex doesn't have any friends like you. Have a good evening."

Lionel walked out. The next day, Bruce would read about Lionel's private jet crashing during the flight back to Metropolis, leading to Lex inheriting the company. Bruce, of course, sent him a bottle of scotch with a condolence card, but never received a response. He and Lex Luthor had never got on.

...

The next week, Bruce was in Central City. He'd managed to use Wayne Enterprises connections to get in on a summer internship programme with the police force, under the guise of wanting to understand what his company's developments were used for.

He walked into the crime lab, setting his backpack down. As he did, a young man a few years older than Bruce, with short, sandy blonde hair, came rushing in, knocking Bruce over.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry." The man said "You must be the summer intern I've got. Name's Barry. Barry Allen. Junior forensic scientist and CSI."

"Bruce Wayne." Bruce said, shaking Barry's hand "You always late, Mr. Allen?"

"Please, call me Barry." Barry replied with a smile "I try not to be but, I had some, uhm, _business,_ to take care of."

" _Business?"_ Bruce questioned, cocking an eyebrow "No offence, but what kind of business could you have at 9AM on a Monday morning?"

"Maybe I'll tell you some other time." Barry said with a laugh "Come on, we've got some tests to run this morning. You're with me for, what, three weeks?"

"Two." Bruce corrected "Then two in the bullpen. Not going to lie, kind of hoping to get to see some detective work, always looks cool on TV."

"Yeah, well, not always as _cool_ as on TV." Barry said, moving to his computer "You any good with computers, Bruce? Since they updated to XP, can't get my head around the operating system."

"Not a fan?" Bruce questioned, moving over to the computer and taking over the keyboard "What're you looking for?"

"Case number 773924." Barry said, watching as Bruce pulled it up quickly "How'd you get that up so fast?"

"Maybe I'll tell you some other time." Bruce said, half smirking, looking at the file "Double homicide, high speed impacts. Let's take a look at similar cases."

"Wait, don't do-" Barry began as Bruce clicked the button "-that."

Bruce looked at the files in front of him, looking down at the victims. One of them was from 18 years ago, and Barry seemed to be trying to cover it. Bruce moved Barry's hand out of the way, surprised at the slim man's strength.

"Nora Allen?" Bruce asked, looking at Barry "Relative?"

"Yes." Barry said coldly "Go get us some coffee, will you?"

"Okay..." Bruce said, realising he'd touched a nerve as he walked out of the office and towards the coffee machine.

Barry Allen was hiding something. Bruce had every intention of finding out what it was.

...

Bruce walked out of the CCPD building. It was 11PM. He'd not expected to be leaving this late, but he'd ended up helping Barry with some paperwork. Apparently, if he was going to learn the fun stuff, he had to learn the boring stuff first.

As he turned the corner to the alley he'd left his car in, he saw a pair of thugs stood by the car, a third one using a crowbar on the car. Bruce coughed.

"It's rude to try to break into other people's property, you know?" Bruce said with a smirk as the three men walked towards him "Three on one. Get some more guys, then we'll talk."

"Hey, I know you." One of the men said "I've seen you on the news. You're the Wayne kid. What are you doing in Central City?"

"Internship." Bruce said, slowly moving from left to right, staying in a position where he was facing the three men at all times "Surely there must be something you could do besides jacking cars?"

"Yeah." Said another of the guys "He's right. You guys got any ideas?"

"Yeah, I do." Said the third with a chuckle "We can beat up spoilt rich kids."

Bruce's face fell as the three men began to walk towards him. As the first reached him, Bruce ducked under a punch, coming back up with an uppercut, before being smacked round the back of the head by the other unarmed man.

He looked up, dazed, as the man he punched walked up to him, kicking him in the ribs, before being handed the crowbar by his accomplice. He raised the bar to strike, before being impacted by a red blur, sending him flying. As the other two men looked at their fallen partner, the same happened to them. Bruce looked around, seeing the men on the floor, unconscious, feeling someone pick him up and strong wind in his face as he passed out.

...

Bruce slowly came to in what looked like a rundown apartment. There was scientific equipment around the room, along with clothes strewn everywhere. At the side of the room was an evidence board with a spider web connecting evidence.

Bruce stood up from the table with pillows he'd been laid on, finding himself shakey on his feet as he walked over to the board, reading the clippings.

 _Nora Allen Murdered._

 _Police Officer Arrested for Wife's Murder._

 _Allen Convicted._

 _Scientist in Coma After Lightning Strike._

Bruce kept reading, before hearing a door open behind him. He moved back to the table as quickly as he could, laying back down and closing his eyes, then opening them just a crack so he could see.

A man walked in, wearing a red bodysuit with yellow boots. He had what looked like a zigzag pattern round the cuff at the top of his gloves, and what looked like lightning bolts at the edge of the red cowl he wore. The man turned around, revealing a white circle with a yellow lightning bolt in the centre of his chest. The man approached Bruce, checking his pulse before moving to the board, examining it as he pulled back the cowl, revealing short, sandy blonde hair.

"Barry Allen..." Bruce said to himself quietly, but apparently not quietly enough to avoid being heard, as the man spun around, revealing Bruce's theory to be right, Bruce opening his eyes as he sat up "Where am I?"

"My apartment." Barry said after a long pause, apparently assessing Bruce "After you got beaten up by those guys, I brought you here to check you over. My plan was to take you to the hospital after you were checked over but I got a call and had to go."

"Okay, next question." Bruce said, cocking an eyebrow and feeling a tug, putting his finger to his eyebrow and noticing blood on his finger "That streak that beat up those guys. That was-"

"Me." Barry cut him off with a nod "Yes. You see, last year, I was struck by lightning in the lab. I should've died, but instead, I wound up in a coma. I woke up six months ago, and found that the lightning combined with the chemicals in the lab had left my molecules in a state of hyper excitement. Sorry, that means-"

"They're moving faster than normal." Bruce said, nodding "I got an A in physics."

"A+." Barry said with a grin "Anyway, the question is, what am I going to do with you now?"

"Take me back to my apartment." Bruce said without thinking "I can prove to you I won't tell anyone."

"How can you do that?" Barry said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Your Mom was murdered. So were my parents." Bruce said "Barry, we're the same. Let me prove it to you."

Barry looked at him for a moment, hesitant. Finally, he pulled the cowl over his head again with a smile, before walking over to Bruce.

"Hold on tight." He said "I'll have you there in a Flash."


	3. Travels Year One: Central City Part Two

Bruce and Barry reached Bruce's penthouse, Bruce quickly buckling over, retching. Barry looked around quickly before speeding over to where a small trash can sat, picking it up and rushing back to Bruce, putting it down in front of him seconds before Bruce threw up into it.

"Yeah... That can happen..." Barry said, pulling his cowl back "Sorry, I should've warned you..."

"You think?!" Bruce said, coughing as he stood up, moving to the kitchen and getting himself a glass of water "You want a drink before I start asking questions."

" _You_ want to ask questions?" Barry said as Bruce walked back over with two glasses, offering Barry one " _You_ were in _my_ apartment!"

"Where _you_ were in spandex!" Bruce said, rolling his eyes as Barry took the drink and downed it "Seriously, how come I've not heard anything about you?"

"I run faster than the shutter speed of a camera." Barry said, smirking "They might pick up the occasional red blur at the edge of the frame, but it's assumed to be a red shift in the focus. People claim a red blur saved them, well, they're assumed to be imagining things."

"So why'd I get to see you?" Bruce said, setting his drink down before crossing his arms across his chest "What's changed?"

"I tripped." Barry admitted with a laugh "When you go at speeds in excess of mach 2, there's kind of not much reaction time."

"Right..." Bruce said "And the mask-"

"I thought you were unconscious when I took it off." Barry said "That answer your question?"

"No." Bruce said, smirking as he said "Why the gap at the bottom of the face? Surely a full face mask makes more sense?"

"Not if you want people to trust you." Barry said "When you're saving people, if there's a chance they'll see your face, they need to see some kind of humanity in you."

Bruce paused for a moment. It half made sense. He'd still die before he put on some kind of skin tight bodysuit and a cowl. Maybe motorcycle leathers with a bat emblem, but not spandex. He could half understand the point about people trusting him though, in a roundabout way.

"So, you said you'd answer my questions?" Barry said, folding his arms "Why not start with what's a billionaire kid doing trying to take on street thugs."

"They tried to mug me. I just defended myself." Bruce said "Besides, I'm not a kid. I'm 18."

"And I'm 24; people would still say _I'm_ a kid!" Barry said with a laugh "Where'd you learn to fight like that? Taught by a body guard or something?"

"My butler taught me, among other people." Bruce answered, pausing before continuing "When I was 8 years old, my parents were murdered by a laughing psychopath. I promised myself, and my parents, that I wouldn't be a victim again, and that no one else would be either."

"I remember the headline about their killer's trial a few years back." Barry said "They caught the guy."

"No, they didn't!" Bruce snapped "They sent an innocent man to prison. It wasn't Willis Todd who killed my parents, it was Jack Napier! _He_ was the leader of the Red Hood gang! Someone arranged for him to get off scot free."

Barry stood there, looking at the teenager. He'd never seen anyone with that much passion for what they spoke about... Well, he had, whenever he'd tried to convince people his father wasn't a killer. But never so much anger. Bruce clearly blamed himself, and clearly had a ton of other issues.

"At least your father wasn't accused of the murder of your mother." Barry said with a grimace, before pausing, pulling up his cowl, listening for a moment "CCPD dispatch. They're saying there's rioting due to freak winds in the city centre. I've got to go."

Barry didn't wait for Bruce to speak before speeding out. Bruce paused for a moment before moving to his suitcase, pulling out a set of black motorcycle leathers and a blacked out helmet, throwing on the ensemble before walking out of the apartment. If there was trouble, he was going to help. He'd made a promise.

...

Barry sped into the city centre, quickly circling the area. As he did, he was impacted by a high speed force. He looked up, seeing nothing before a figure in a version of his suit with the colour scheme reversed sped up to him, hitting him again. Meanwhile, a number of police officers were converging on him, weapons drawn.

"Where the hell did he come from?" One of them said.

"Screw that, what's with the costume?" Another said "It ain't Halloween!"

"G... Get out of here." Barry said, staggering to his feet as he saw the figure speeding up to one of the men "Turn-"

Before he could get the words out, he saw the man in the yellow suit strike the police officers violently, his suit being spattered with blood. He turned to Barry, smiling sadistically, his eyes glowing red.

"If anyone gets to kill you, Flash, it'll be me." The man said, his voice distorted "Now, run away!"

Before Barry could reply, a black motorcycle slammed into the man in yellow, a black clad figure being flung from it. Barry sped after the figure, checking on the man. He pulled of the man's motorcycle helmet, seeing Bruce there, looking slightly dazed.

"Get out of here, Bruce." Barry said, looking at the man in yellow, who had stood up, looking angry "He'll kill you if-"

Before Barry could finish talking, he was impacted by the man in yellow, being flung aside as the man knelt beside Bruce, his hand beginning to reverberate at high speed.

"Bruce Wayne... No cape. Guess it is a little early for that." The man said, smirking "You, Kent and that woman have been almost as much of a thorn in my side as Flash. Not anymore."

"Sorry, buddy..." Bruce said as the man slowly lowered his hand towards Bruce's face "I'm pretty sure we've never met..."

"Oh, I know." The man said with a laugh "Good bye, Mr. Wayne..."

Before the man could make contact, he was hit away by a red streak, Barry stood there panting. He turned to Bruce.

"Get out of here!" He yelled at the eighteen year old, Bruce nodding and beginning to run away, as Barry turned to face the man in yellow "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm like you, well, I'm a mirror for you. An opposite. A reverse." The man said, chagrining at Barry, Barry barely catching him and taking him to the floor "We've been doing this for years, as far as I'm concerned, Barry."

"What did you call me?" Barry said, his grip slacking just enough for the man to flip them around, getting Barry in a choke hold.

"I know all about you, Barry Allen. We've been fighting for a long time. Hell, we met when you were a boy." The man said, smirking as he stopped vibrating, his eyes losing their red glow, revealing blue eyes underneath "The night I killed Nora."

Barry looked up at the man, anger suddenly filling his eyes. This was the man. The man who'd killed his mother, who'd set his father up. Due to some grudge he claimed to have which Barry didn't even understand. In years to come, he would. But not this night.

This night, he just wanted revenge.

He put his legs against the man's chest, kicking him in the gut at high speed before kicking the man off. The man turned and began to run away, Barry chasing him. Barry sped up, closing on the man. As he was in arm's reach, the man accelerated, a red vortex of lightning forming in front of him. The man continued to accelerate, until he hit the vortex, his body being torn apart by sheering forces, Barry barely stopping in time to avoid the same fate.

...

Bruce was three blocks from where he'd started by the time Barry caught him up. Bruce nodded to Barry.

"Your nose is bleeding." He said, Barry checking it "He get a few sucker punches in?"

"A couple. None in the face." Barry said "Probably down to the speed. I'm fast, I heal fast, but I'm still Human. Not too much durable than you."

"Good to know." Bruce said "Listen, he mentioned something back there. He said I was almost as much a thorn in his side as you..."

"I've only seen him once before tonight, when I was a kid." Barry said "The guy disappeared, ripped apart. There was some kind of vortex, he hit it, and he got torn apart. Maybe it was sheering, maybe it was something else."

"Whatever." Bruce said "Can I get a ride home? My bike kind of got totalled."

"Sure." Barry said, picking Bruce up and speeding off into the night.

...

Bruce walked into the Police precinct the next day, with a satchel, and wearing a support bandage on his wrist. All things considered, he was lucky his injuries weren't worse than a pulled muscle in his wrist.

He walked into Barry's lab, opening the satchel and pulling out a sketchpad, tossing it down in front of Barry.

"I was up until about four." Bruce said, smirking "Take a look."

Barry opened the sketchpad and smirked. He turned to Bruce and showed him the drawing.

"Open mouth area?" He said with a laugh "What's with the points on top?"

"Wait until you see the rest." Bruce said, still smirking "Bats frighten me. Some day soon, they're going to frighten Gotham's criminals too."

Before Barry could respond, Bruce's phone started ringing. Bruce put a finger up, checking the caller ID. It was Jim.

"Hello?" He said as he answered the phone "Lieutenant? What is it?"

"Jim. You know that by now, Bruce." Jim corrected him "I'm just calling because I thought you should know... Willis Todd was murdered this morning. We don't know who it was yet, but it looks like it was a hit."

"He was in protective solitary." Bruce said coldly "If he was murdered, then it has to be an inside job."

"My money's on Flass. He's been visiting a lot lately." Jim said coldly "I know you never believed he killed your parents but-"

"Jim, Jack Napier killed my parents." Bruce said, pausing "Did Todd have any family?"

"He had a wife, but she passed away last year. Lung cancer." Jim said "He has a 9 year old son, who went into the care system."

"I want... I'd _like,_ for his son to be taken into the private care of the Thomas and Martha Wayne foundation." Bruce said calmly "They'll treat him better, see he gets a better life than the City will."

"I'll send the paper work your way." Jim said "It's good of you, Bruce. All things considered."

"I share some responsibility in his father's death." Bruce muttered to himself with a sigh "What's the boy's name?"

"Jason." Jim replied "Jason Todd."

"I'll have Alfred meet with him." Bruce said "Thank you, Jim."

"No, thank you, Bruce." Jim replied "Good bye."

Jim hung up and Bruce put his phone in his pocket with a sigh. Napier had connections. There'd probably been something come up that hinged on a testimony from Todd, that would've got Todd out and put Napier away. He turned back to Barry.

"I need you to help me with something." Bruce said "I need to learn about criminology."

 **...**

 **Okay, so this is partly to help introduce the next section of volume two (which I will try to put out concurrent with this redux; we'll see how that goes) and also link in with events in Flash Volume 1; whilst they occur 7 years after this, these events** _ **are**_ **relevant, exactly how I will explain in that fic. Now we're going to have a little time skip to about four months later, when Bruce enters Met U. Anyway, R &R, please, no flames, B.**


	4. Travels Year One: Metropolis

Bruce walked through the doors into the lecture hall his class at Met U was being held. He'd been attending classes there for the last three days, since he'd been kicked out of Gotham University for picking fights. He'd tried telling them the guys he'd punched had been trying to sell him drugs, and he was doing the campus security a favour, but they didn't see it that way.

Fortunately, a few hundred thousand dollars for a new Library was more than enough to get him a spot on the History course at Metropolis University, with a minor in Forensic analysis. He was there more for the minor, but if he'd majored in it, people might've paid it more attention. As it stood, they'd just see him taking any old minor he could get easy help on; it was no secret that he was friends with Lieutenant Gordon, and had interned at CCPD with both a young forensic scientist and then a Detective.

There was a guest lecturer at the front of the hall, a man in his early thirties wearing a crinkled grey suit, his brown hair flecked with early grey and the stubble on his face showing similar signs of aging.

"Nice of you to join us." The man said coldly "For your sake, I'm going to be nice. I'm Doctor Carter Hall, your guest lecturer for the day. And you are?"

"Bruce Wayne." Bruce said, smirking and putting on his best playboy face "Student by day, billionaire playboy by night."

"Well, right now, it's the day, Mr. Wayne." Hall replied "Please have a seat, and we'll continue."

Bruce moved to the back of the class, where a young woman with brown hair flecked with blonde streaks was sat. He wouldn't even try to lie and say she wasn't cute, and if he didn't flirt a little, people would start talking.

"Hey there." He said quietly, flashing her a smile "Bruce Wayne."

"Not interested." She said "I'm only in this stinking class to get enough credits to get into my sophomore year. Lost out on points in my journalism exam for misspelling Gotham. How was I to know there wasn't a U in it?"

"Because everyone knows that?" Bruce said with a chuckle "Seriously, are you going to tell me your name or am I going to make one up for you?"

"It's Lois." The girl relented "Lois Lane. Now, can you please shut up?"

"That depends." Bruce said, smirking "Want to go to dinner with me later? I know this great place, serves the best steak in the city."

"No thanks." She said "I don't fancy being one of those 'Wayne Girls' you read about in gossip columns. Seriously, I think you keep Cat Grant working."

"Well then, can't let the lady lose out on her livelihood." Bruce said "I'll pick you up at eight."

"Mr. Wayne," Hall said, interrupting Bruce with an excerbated tone "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"Yeah, there is actually." Bruce said, smirking "This one's for the ladies. Show of hands, who thinks Lois here is being stupid by saying she doesn't want to go for dinner with me?"

About half the hands in the room shot up, not all of them belonging to women. Bruce smirked at Lois. He'd always been good at chess, and he'd just managed check mate.

...

Outside the class, Bruce jogged after Hall. The man had been quite interesting in his lecture, when Bruce hadn't been playing his role. Especially given they all coincided with sightings of a 'mace wielding angel' who'd saved a number of people.

"Doctor Hall!" Bruce called "Doctor Hall, wait up!"

Hall turned to face Bruce, his face still looking exacerbated. Bruce slowed to a halt beside him before holding a hand out to the man, which was cautiously taken.

"I thought your lecture was brilliant, Doctor." Bruce said, smiling "If it's alright with you, I'd like to help fund your research."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, but there's not much military or medical application in my work." Hall said "And I _don't_ take funding as an apology for disrupting my classes."

"I'm not asking you to." Bruce said, smirking "I'm asking you to take funding from an admirer of your work. I'm especially a fan of your work with hawks."

"You've got my attention, Mr. Wayne." Hall said "What are you talking about?"

"That so called 'Hawkman' that keeps showing up around your digs, helping out." Bruce said "I want to help him out, for the good he does. My parents, they were killed when I was eight years old. When I see people helping others, well, I feel they should be rewarded. All I'm going to ask, is if he's employed by you, keep doing it. That is the only condition for a continual grant of five hundred thousand dollars a year to be used at your discretion from the Wayne Enterprises Historical foundation."

"I'm not saying I do employ the person you're speaking about." Hall said "However, I will agree to your terms."

"Good." Bruce said, shaking Hall's hand again, depositing a cheque in it "Call that a signing bonus. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars should be enough to help you out for a while."

Bruce didn't wait for a response before walking away. He had a date to get ready for.

...

Lois sat in the restaurant Bruce had specified. She didn't know why she'd bothered coming, but then again, he was _Bruce Wayne!_ If she wanted a chance at becoming a big shot reporter, this was as good a chance as she'd get, unless she wanted to go to Central City and start writing about that 'Flash' guy that had shown up about 2 months ago, or to one of the many rumoured citings of a 'Hawkman', or maybe to look into the disappearance of that test pilot in Coast City. Or maybe if men started flying around in little red capes, that'd certainly make the headlines. She could see it now.

' _Crazy SOB tries to fly, ends up hitting the pavement to fry!' by Lois Lane._

Lois had to laugh at the idea. As she did, the pinot grigiot she had in her hand spilled slightly over the red silk dress she wore. She quickly stood, dabbing it, before hearing a small laugh coming from the entrance.

"You know, if you wanted out of the dress, you could've just called and told me, we would've been back at my penthouse about five minutes after you got here." Bruce said as he walked over, a broad grin on his face "Sorry I'm late. I just couldn't pick what outfit to wear."

Lois looked at him. He wore a pair of grey trousers, some black brogues, a grey woollen waistcoat and a black shirt, the collar buttoned up without a tie, with his black hair spiked up. She'd never understood why men did that, but she couldn't deny, the ensemble worked for him.

Not that she'd let him know that.

"So, what're we having?" Bruce asked as he sat down "The lobster's good, but I quite like the sirloin steak."

"I'm a vegetarian." Lois lied, trying to be difficult "What's on the menu for that?"

"Caesar salad." Bruce said "Or you could stop lying about being a vegetarian and just try the lobster."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said, sighing before saying "Fine, I'm just a little uncomfortable, okay? I haven't really done this before."

"Gone to dinner?" Bruce asked, cocking an eyebrow "Dated?"

"Dated... Sober." She said "I normally have a drink beforehand."

"Well, see, we're getting to know each other." Bruce said, smirking, gesturing for the waiter to come over "Let's order."

...

Bruce woke up in the morning, his head pounding. It took him a minute to think of what had happened; after the restaurant, he and Lois had hit the student bar. They'd then had more than a few cocktails, before heading back to his penthouse. He smirked at the next part, before looking at the note on his pillow.

 _Bruce,_

 _Thanks for a great night. You surprised me. We should do it again sometime. Call me._

 _See you in class._

 _Lois._

Bruce set the note down. Then he face palmed. He hadn't got her number. He knew she was in a sorority but he had gone to the bathroom before she could tell him which one. He could ask her next time he saw her, but that'd be humiliating beyond belief.

He sighed. He'd need to confront her with his mistake and apologise profusely. Then he'd need to wait for her to laugh in his face.

He moved through to the living room and kitchen area, picking up the TV remote and flicking it onto the news. He moved to where the cupboards were and picked up the corn flakes and a bowl, pouring the corn flakes into the bowl, before going to the refrigerator, grabbing the milk and the apple juice, pouring the milk in with the corn flakes and a glass of apple juice.

He swigged the juice as he turned to face the TV screen. There was an image of someone being carried off in a body bag. The reporter on screen, a young African American woman, someone he recognised from his time in Central City as Barry Allen's girlfriend, Iris West, was speaking.

" _I'm here in Star City, at the Queen mansion, where, earlier this morning, Moira Queen, widow of the late Robert Queen and mother of the late Oliver Queen, was found dead in bed."_ Iris spoke _"The cause of death has currently not been disclosed, however, she is rumoured to have been stabbed repeatedly. Mrs. Queen, whose Husband and Son were both lost earlier this year in an accident on their yacht whilst out at sea, announced yesterday that she had intended to sponsor expansion of Star City over the forest on the outskirts of the city. This makes her the fourth suspicious death this year following an announcement by the victim of sponsoring a city expansion, and the first of them to not have an advanced energy project at the time."_

Bruce pressed the remote control, turning off the TV. He knew Oliver Queen from his middle school years. The guy had been a tool, one of Lex Luthor's buddies who loved a party. Still, Bruce had made a point to go to his funeral earlier in the year, more out of respect for the fact that their fathers had been friends than anything else. Since then, Bruce had been discussing with Oliver's mother the possibility of a joint project to build a new, sustainable power source as part of the planned Star City expansion, with a twin facility to be built at a later date on the site of an old Wayne Enterprises warehouse, with some help from a Doctor Hamilton who had been on Queen's staff, before accepting a job as head of research at STAR labs in Metropolis.

Maybe a visit to Doctor Hamilton was in order.

...

Emil Hamilton stood in his lab, reading results from an experiment, the light from the screen shining on his brown hair and beard, and reflecting off of his wireframe glasses. He'd been working with radioactive meteor fragments, examining their responses to different forms of interaction. So far, nothing had got any real results, barring trying to extract energy from the green rocks.

He looked up as a young man in blue jeans, with a grey shirt and a black leather jacket walked in. Emil knew him, of course; Bruce Wayne, the so called 'prince of Gotham,' recently transferred to Metropolis University. He was also someone who had been offering to fund Emil's work into clean energy sources, along with Moira Queen, who had been following on from work her Husband had financed.

"Mr. Wayne. Pleasure to meet you at last." Emil said, walking up to Bruce and shaking his hand as he raised an eyebrow "Shouldn't you be in a class?"

"Gave myself time off for good behaviour." Bruce said, his expression unreadable "I came to check on you. After what happened to Moira, and the other people, all involved in similar projects to the one we were working on."

"You think I did it, don't you, Mr. Wayne?" Emil said, laughing "Trust me, killing potential investors _isn't_ in my best interests."

"Maybe not." Bruce said, as an attractive young woman with an olive complexion and brown hair walked in with two cups of coffee, giving one to Emil before offering the other to Bruce "No thanks. Not a coffee drinker. You have it."

The woman hesitated for a moment. As she did, Emil began choking, as if he'd swallowed something. It was only when Bruce looked at him he noticed he was foaming at the mouth, the foam a bloody red. Bruce looked at the woman with a panicked expression, before kicking one of the computers at the edge of the room hard enough to set off the tamper detection system.

The room was immediately locked down, only accessible by people coming in. Bruce turned to the woman who was charging at him. He ducked under her attack before sweeping his leg under her, taking her to the floor. He pinned her there, holding her down as she struggled.

"What did you give Doctor Hamilton?" He asked, his eyes narrowing "Tell me!"

"His vision conflicts with my master's." She said "His work would destroy the world..."

"So you tried to kill him?" Bruce growled as the doors opened "It's okay, I got a-"

Before he could get another word out, he was hit in the back of the head. He looked up in time to see an older woman with black hair in a black, skin tight leather suit enter with a sword, hitting the young woman round the back of the head before injecting Hamilton with something and turning to the girl.

"Your father does not want Hamilton dead, Talia!" The woman with the sword said, looking at Bruce "But the boy has seen us. He must die!"

"He beat me!" The younger woman, apparently named Talia, said "Bring him to my father. He may be useful to us."

"Bruce Wayne is of no use to anyone unless they need money. Your father does not." The older woman said, sighing as she relented "However, your father has ordered me to follow your orders. Come. We're leaving."

Bruce began to move to get up before being hit round the back of the head and blacking out.

 **...**

 **So here we have it. The date mentioned in Justice League United Volume One between Bruce Wayne and Lois Lane explored (to as great a degree as it will be, at least for now), as well as why Bruce didn't bother calling explained. As you may have guessed, we're about to see Bruce Wayne's first meeting with Ra's Al Ghul, have just seen how he originally met Talia, though their romantic relationship follows a fair bit later than this. There are hints as to whom we'll be meeting with Ra's in volume two's chapter ten, so have fun clocking it, I made it very easy haha. R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	5. Travels Year One: Nanda Parbat Part One

Bruce came to on a hard mattress in a concrete cell. His clothes had been changed, for a pair of black trousers and a black shirt, with a pair of black boots. There were no windows, and the door had only a single hatch at the bottom, presumably to put food in. It was designed to keep people from viewing the outside world and working out where they were.

On the upside, there was a separate room for a toilet and shower. He moved into the room. There was an unbranded liquid soap by the basin, and an AXE shower gel and deodorant. Clearly, that 'Talia' and her accomplice had wanted him comfortable, but not too comfortable.

He heard the door in the main area of the cell opening. He pressed himself against the wall diagonal from the mirror; he could barely see the door to the other room, so, according to what he knew about the physics involved in mirrors, they should barely be able to see him at best.

He watched as a pair of men walked in, wearing black trousers and boots similar to the ones he wore, with black tunics over a shirt similar to his, and black gloves and hoods, only their eyes visible. They had katanas on their backs, with the handles of shorter versions visible at the back of their belts.

A direct confrontation would be a bad idea, he knew enough to know that. He was hungry, possibly concussed, and generally just at a disadvantage. The only edge he might have would be the element of surprise. He remembered his play fighting with Tommy Elliot when they were boys; Tommy had always been the stronger of the two of them, but Bruce had almost always managed to win their fights through guile and a more tactical mind. In later years, the tables had turned, but Bruce still knew enough about guile to avoid being taken down by one guy. But not two.

"Come on out, Mr. Wayne." Spoke the taller of the men, his voice having a south American accent "We will not harm you, our master wishes only to speak to you."

Bruce paused. The man could be lying. Then again, why bring him here, change his clothes and leave him in a cell only to kill him? It'd be a waste of time and resources. He swallowed hard and stepped out.

"Clever boy." The man said, gesturing for Bruce to come to them "Come."

Bruce hesitated. The taller man advanced, and Bruce saw the shorter one's hand instinctively go for the short sword on the back of his belt. The taller man noted this and turned to the shorter man, backhanding him.

"This boy is our _guest!"_ The taller man spat "We have orders not to threaten, nor harm him! I don't care who you are, make any attempt to do either again, and I shall save our master a job, and have your head myself!"

The shorter man bowed his head, as the taller man turned back to Bruce, gesturing towards the door.

"After you, Mr. Wayne." He said, noting Bruce's hesitance "Boy, if we were planning to harm you, you would already be dead. Our master has, on his daughter's insistence, declared you a guest. We are to act as your personal escorts during your time with us, ensuring you come to no harm."

"Funny way your friend has of showing it." Bruce said sarcastically "Where am I?"

"Nanda Parbat, home of Ra's Al Ghul." The taller man said "A man who does not like to be kept waiting. Come."

Seeing Bruce had no intention of leading the way, the taller man pushed the shorter to begin to move forward, the shorter man leading the way, Bruce taking a place in the middle as the taller brought up the rear. Bruce looked out the window. He could see snowy mountain peaks outside; they were in mountains _somewhere._

He was lead through several identical corridor, all lit by electric, wall mounted lamps stylised to look like wooden torches. Finally, they reached a pair of large, oak doors and stopped. The taller man walked in front of Bruce, barring his way.

"This is as far as we are permitted to go." The man said "Speak only when spoken to, and answer honestly. He'll _know_ if you lie. Good luck."

The two men opened the doors, standing at attention by them as Bruce walked through. He looked around. The architecture was akin to a medieval castle throne room, a large, green pool under a glass circle in the middle of the floor at the bottom of stone steps leading up to a golden throne. On the throne was a man who looked to be in his late forties, with brown hair and a goatee, a grey streak at each temple, wearing a green cloak over trousers, boots and a shirt that matched the ones Bruce wore. A katana was in a sheath by the throne, a golden handle with a dragon's head at its hilt.

At the bottom of the steps was Talia, wearing a black leather bodysuit, who walked over to him, taking his arm as she led him towards the throne.

"My father is not a patient man, Mr. Wayne." She said quietly as she led him towards the glass circle, Bruce finally noting her British accent "If you attempt to mislead him, he _will_ kill you. Answer honestly, and remember to bow."

"Bow?" Bruce said, surprised "You're kidding right?"

"Is decapitation for disrespect a joke?" She asked him seriously, kissing him on the cheek as they reached the throne "For luck."

Bruce looked up at the man. The eyes were a bright green, unlike anything he'd ever seen. After a moment, Bruce bowed low, before standing up straight. The man smirked.

"My daughter has clearly instructed you on how to greet me, Mr. Wayne. The detective in training." The man said, his accent matching Talia's "I am Ra's Al Ghul, head of the demon, leader of the League of Assassins."

"It was you." Bruce said, his expression cold "You had Moira Queen and the others murdered."

"Moira Queen. Garrison Slate. Letitia Luthor. Lewis Moxon." Ra's replied "All threats to the order of things. Their work would've led to criminals having more resources, in the long term. We owe it to Humanity to protect it from itself."

"So you kill people?" Bruce asked "Why would you do that to people who'd never done anything to you?"

"No, Mr. Wayne. We punish those who would do wrong." Ra's said "Tell me, have you ever known a man go free for a crime he committed."

"Yes." Bruce said after a pause "The man who killed my parents..."

"And would you see justice brought down on him?" Ra's asked "Would you see him dead?"

"Yes..." Bruce said "I would..."

"Then we shall help you." Ra's said "You are a formidable warrior, enough to match my daughter. We shall teach you further. You're listed as on a sabbatical from your studies, no one will look for you. If you try to contact anyone, they _will_ be killed and _you_ will be punished. If you follow the rules of Nanda Parbat, you will be rewarded. What is your decision?"

"Yes." Bruce said "I'll accept your training."

"Excellent." Ra's said, rising from his throne and beginning to walk down the stairs as the doors opened and the two men walked in "You have one test first. These two are my apprentices. If I am to train you, you must best one of them in unarmed combat. Choose your adversary."

Bruce looked between the two men. The larger had been kinder, and was more likely to pull his punches from what Bruce could gauge of his personality. However, the smaller's frame led Bruce to believe he'd be the weaker of the two.

"Him." Bruce said, pointing at the smaller "I'll fight him."

"Interesting. You choose my son." Ra's said with a smirk, nodding to the taller "Bane. Leave us."

"Bane?" Bruce asked "His name is _Bane?"_

"He has no name." The remaining man said as he removed his tunic and weapons, his accent British, with an arrogant tone "We found him in a pit of a prison. Pathetic thing he was. God only knows why my Father favours him..."

"He doesn't possess your ego..." Bruce heard Talia say quietly, being backhanded by her brother in response, reaching behind her belt and pulling a knife, her wrist being caught by her father before she could strike her brother "Father! He struck me!"

"After you insulted him." Ra's said, turning to his son and Bruce "Just enjoy the show, Talia."

"My name is Dusan Al Ghul." The man said, facing Bruce down "I will take great pleasure in choking the life out of you with my bare hands."

Dusan said no more, charging Bruce, who sidestepped him, slapping him round the back of the head. Dusan turned to Bruce, swinging a punch and having it caught before he brought his knee up into Bruce's gut. Bruce staggered back, ducking under the next strike, before coming up with an uppercut, then bringing his hands together and slamming them down on the top of Dusan's head, taking him to the ground. Bruce crouched, pulling Dusan's arm back to an awkward angle.

"Yield." Bruce said, smirking to himself as he pushed Dusan's arm up "Unless you want me to break it..."

"I yield..." Dusan growled, Bruce releasing him "Son of a bitch..."

"What did you say?" Bruce said, turning back to Dusan, smacking him in the face before picking him up by the throat "Take that back. Or I'll crush your windpipe!"

"Well done, Mr. Wayne!" Ra's said with a smile as he approached them, having Bruce put Dusan down "You certainly showed my son how to do things. Dusan, I'm disappointed in you for losing so easily."

"When aren't you disappointed in me..." Dusan spat, pushing past Bruce "I'll be in my chambers. Have Shiva join me at her earliest convenience."

"Shiva?" Bruce asked "Who's Shiva?"

"My protector." Talia said, rolling her eyes "Dusan sees her as his personal sex toy..."

"She will join him." Ra's said, smirking as he said "We can't have failure, and she'll eliminate the problem easily. Come, Bruce. Let me show you to your new room."

...

Bruce sat at the long, ornate dining table. It was in a regal looking dining room, a large fire place in the corner. He'd been invited to dinner by his hosts, though he had a sneaking suspicion it was less of an invitation, more of a demand. Across from him was the large figure of Bane, his swords now gone, along with the hood, revealing a shaved head with several scars all over his face. Bruce wondered if they'd came from his training with Ra's, or from his time in the prison Dusan had mentioned earlier.

The large double doors at the end of the room opened, Bane quickly standing and gesturing for Bruce to follow suit, as Ra's and Talia walked in, Ra's taking a seat at the head of the table whilst Talia began walking down Bruce's side towards the other end of the table. Ra's wore his earlier outfit, whilst Talia had swapped her leather suit in favour of a long, flowing black dress that dipped in the middle to just below her navel.

"See anything you like, Mr. Wayne?" She said quietly with a smirk as she walked past, Bruce suppressing a grin in response.

"Nice of you to join us, Bruce." Ra's said, gesturing for Bruce and Bane to sit "I hope your room is to your liking?"

"That's an understatement." Bruce said "It might even be nicer than my room at Wayne Manor! Loved the bear rug, nice touch."

"Thank you. It was a present from an Algerian Sultan a long time ago." Ra's said, smiling as he said "He was having problems with some people who were threatening to slaughter his city if he didn't hand over almost all of their crop for the year. I... _dealt_ with the problem."

"Ra's Al Ghul is a surprisingly benevolent man, considering his title." Bane spoke up "He continually donates to a number of agricultural endeavours, including one or two foundations your own Mother set up. Under a different name, of course."

"Damian Head." Bruce said, smirking "It doesn't take a Detective in training to translate 'Demon's Head' to 'Damien Head,' and I remember picking the name out on one of my Mother's papers when I was a boy. You were one of her primary benefactors."

"Yes." Ra's said "Such a pity the foundation shut down."

"After my Mother died, there was no one to run it." Bruce replied "Alfred, my Butler and Guardian, offered, but the board felt he had enough responsibility, raising me."

"Of course, I understand." Ra's said "Raising a young boy can be such hard work."

"Or girl." Talia coughed with a smirk "I believe I was almost as much trouble as my brother growing up. And the less said about Nyssa, the better."

"Quite." Ra's said, as plates were brought in with steaks and potatoes and vegetables "Eat up, my friends. There's plenty more where that came from."

...

Bruce stepped out of the en suite in his bedroom, a towel wrapped round his waist. He sat on the bed as there was a knock on the door.

"Come on in." He said, before remembering he'd locked the door "Hang on!"

He stood up, moving to the door and unlocking it. He pulled the door open, revealing Talia stood there in a long, black night gown, a subtle smile on her lips.

"Talia, what are you-" He began before she stepped inside, kissing him as she closed the door behind him "Oh, okay..."

She led him to the bed and pushed him down onto it, beginning to unfasten her night gown. He had a feeling he was going to like it here.


	6. Travels Year Two: Nanda Parbat Part Two

Bruce sat in the workshop at a circular saw, a series of shuriken cut in half beside him. He'd been training at Nanda Parbat for six months, and had a test in the morning; he had to take down a series of armed members of the League of Assassins, before confronting and defeating Bane.

He'd been told he could customise his equipment however he saw fit. So, he'd been cutting all the shuriken in half. What they lost in momentum and range, they were gaining in speed and number. He'd also dipped them in a tranquiliser, to make up for the reduced impact of them; they'd only provide small scratches, but with a tranquiliser coating, that would be enough.

His big concern was fighting Bane. Bane had recently perfected a system he'd been working on for months, a series of tubing connected to a small chemical pack on the back of his belt, which pumped his own tailor made blend of steroids directly into the arteries on his wrists. It enhanced Bane's strength several times over, albeit only as long as the chemical intake was maintained; at that point, his strength level would actually drop to below normal levels for a while due to the strain on his body the chemical he used, which he'd named 'Venom', caused.

A weakness Bane was still working out the kinks on. Bruce just needed to ensure Bane used Venom, then cut his supply. Of course, that came with a risk. When using Venom, Bane entered an almost beserker rage, with very little concern for his own wellbeing or that of his opponent. It was a big risk, but the potential reward just about matched it.

He finished cutting his tenth shuriken in half, then turned to his other project. He'd modified his tunic with a long, black cape. Again, this was to help deal with Bane on Venom; hopefully, while Bane was raging, he'd swing wildly at the mass, missing Bruce and hitting the cape instead.

Of course, all of this hinged on Bruce _getting_ to Bane first, something the League of Assassins members were ordered to prevent. Fortunately, Ra's had decided he didn't want to risk the death of one of his two protégé's, and instead had ordered all the men armed with shotguns firing bean bags and other gear usually reserved for riot suppression. It wouldn't kill Bruce, but it would damned well hurt.

He moved over to the mesh armour he'd made to go under the tunic. It used primarily a Kevlar weave, pulled from inside a bulletproof vest, but was cushioned with a rubber inlay as well. It would give him some protection from the riot gear, as well as cushion against Bane's blows. He paused for a moment before moving to the rubber and Kevlar off cuts, picking one of them up.

He moved to the work bench, beginning to cut. When he was finished, he held up what he'd made; a gunmetal grey outline of a bat. He held it against the black tunic. It stood out; a target. A target where the armour was thickest. He'd been told all through his training to misdirect his enemies, and this was just that; misdirecting where they should aim.

He could win this.

...

Bruce stepped into the arena, where a mock village had been erected. He wore the uniform, the bat outline stitched to the centre of his torso. He began to move through slowly, carefully, the cape flowing behind him. He peered round a corner, only just whipping his head back in time to avoid being hit in the face by a pair of bean bags from the shotguns of two men.

He took a breath, reaching into a pouch he'd attached to his belt, containing several shuriken. He removed two of the tranquiliser dipped throwing weapons, rolling out into the middle of the faux alley the two men were in and throwing the shuriken. The men raised their guns to shoot the objects down but were half a second too slow, being scratched by the bladed objects and going down within seconds.

Bruce rose to his feet, beginning to move through again. As he did, he heard a sound behind him, turning to see a man holding a blunted sword, charging at him. Bruce raised his arms, blocking the blade with the small blades on his gauntlets, using the man's momentum to flip him onto the ground before punching him in the face, hard, knocking him out.

Bruce continued through the area, taking down various men as he did, before finally, he reached the centre. Bane was stood there, wearing a black tactical vest, black combats, and a black and white luchador mask, red lenses in the eye sockets. Visible on Bane's arms were the tubes, going into gauntlets on his wrists, and attaching to a device under the combat vest.

Bruce immediately charged in, beginning to throw blows at Bane. Bane ducked and dodged under the attacks, kicking Bruce away before hitting a button on his right wrist, a green liquid beginning to flow through the tubes, Bane beginning to have his muscles inflate as if they were balloons, gaining about a foot in height. Bruce smirked under his mask. Everything was going to plan.

Bane charged in, beginning to punch Bruce, hard. As one of the hits made contact with the bat symbol, it bent up at the edges, before being hit clean away from the tunic in the next strike, hanging loosely by a few threads before falling off.

Bruce rolled under another blow, pulling several shuriken out and throwing them all at Bane, causing several small scratches. Bane laughed.

"You'll need to do better than that, Wayne!" He spat "With Venom, your little toys and their toxins are useless!"

Bruce froze for a second. He hadn't bothered to study the chemical makeup of Bane's Venom, only what he'd observed during its use. That second was a second too long.

Bane grabbed Bruce by the throat, lifting him up before putting Bruce into a position where Bane had him held by the back of his neck in one hand, with his left leg in the other. Bruce knew from what he'd seen Bane do before what would come next.

"It's not personal, Wayne. The master just despises failure." Bane growled "And now, I break you!"

"No, Bane..." Bruce said, moving his arm up and catching the tube on Bane's left arm between the two blades on Bruce's wrist "I break you!"

Bruce pulled, the tube being severed. Bane dropped Bruce, desperately grabbing at the severed tube trying to stop the liquid spurting out the end from being lost. As Bruce hit the ground, he let out a yell of pain, struggling up as he pulled a shuriken, hurling it at the right tube, severing that as well. Bane screamed in pain as he returned to his original size, Bruce slowly pulling himself to his feet and moving over to Bane.

"I'm sorry, my friend." Bruce said, before punching Bane in the face, knocking him out "I did what I had to."

There was a mechanical sound as the fake village slowly lowered into the ground, before being covered by metal doors, leaving Bruce stood in a chamber full of unconscious bodies in various state of injury.

Bruce picked Bane up, slinging the larger man over his shoulders and beginning to move slowly towards the exit. The doors opened, revealing a number of doctors who came in to treat the men, Bruce lowering Bane onto a stretcher as it was brought it.

"Make sure he gets taken care of well." Bruce said "I doubt Ra's would be too happy if you didn't."

The medic nodded as Bruce walked out, pulling his mask off as he did. He turned the corner, seeing Talia stood leaning against the wall, a smirk on her face.

"You won." She said with a laugh "I knew you would."

"Didn't feel much like I won." Bruce said, stopping turning to her "When I was given this test, you told me to use the Venom against him. Did you know that it would hurt him that much if it were just cut off rather than tapering off?"

"It wasn't my idea, I didn't know about that." Talia said "It was my father's."

Bruce grimaced. He'd been played. Ra's wanted to show Bane that his reliance on Venom could get him killed. He stormed off in the direction of the throne room.

"Bruce, wait!" Talia yelled after him "My father's in the pit... No one disturbs him when-"

"I'm not just anyone, I'm Bruce Wayne!" Bruce spat as he reached the doors, slamming them open as he yelled "What the hell were you playing at, old man?!"

In the centre of the room, the glass circle was open, the green liquid bubbling, Ra's in the centre of it. He looked up at Bruce, before smirking.

"I see you realised my motives, Detective." Ra's scowled "You and Bane are my two finest pupils. However, I do not want him as an heir, not with his damage..."

"Heir..." Bruce said, before realising it, turning back to Talia _"That's_ why you showed up at my room the night Ra's took me as his apprentice. Manipulation for your father."

"No, Bruce... Beloved Bruce..." She said, putting a hand on his cheek "I _chose_ to come. I wanted someone like you. Strong. Intelligent. Attractive..."

"And it just _happened_ to play into Ra's' plans!" Bruce yelled, slapping her hands away, moving towards the pit "I'm leaving, Ra's."

"I can't allow that, Detective." Ra's said, slowly moving out of the pit, his expression turning from arrogance to anger "You are to remain here as my heir. You _will_ lead the League of Assassins in years to come. Against injustice, and against Gotham."

"No." Bruce said, having Ra's charge him, Bruce barely dodging his attacks, briefly looking at Talia "Go on. Help your father. I know that's all you care about."

Bruce and Ra's began exchanging blows. Bruce had youth on his side, but Ra's had experience, and quickly had Bruce on the ground, a sword to his throat.

"I'm sorry, Detective," Ra's said "but I can't have dissention in the ranks."

Bruce kicked Ra's' legs out from under him, grabbing Ra's sword and running it into the man's chest. He stood over his fallen adversary and began to walk out, stopping beside Talia.

"I'd get him into the pit if I were you." Bruce said "I don't want his blood on my hands."

Bruce walked out, leaving Talia to decide her father's fate,

...

As he reached the airstrip, Bruce took the environment in. On this airstrip, the guards had real weapons. It wouldn't be simple to escape.

He pulled his mask back on. As he began to move down the hillside, he checked the pouch on his belt. A half a dozen shuriken remained. Not enough to take down the entire airfield. Then again, he didn't need to. He just needed to get to a plane.

In his mid teens, Alfred had attempted to teach him to fly a biplane. Bruce had managed to do the take off and the flying to a passable, albeit not employable, degree. He'd never quite got the hang of landing though. He'd need to hope he could manage it this time. If he didn't get shot down on takeoff.

He slipped through the perimeter, taking down a pair of guards as he did. He quietly moved through, before reaching the hangar. As he did, there were sparks in front of him as bullets struck the wall. He ran inside, finding a set of stairs.

He quickly moved down them, before reaching a sea plane. He paused before climbing in, pulling off his mask as he fastened his seatbelt, beginning to move the plane out of the hangar and into the open water, before finally going full throttle as he took off.

He looked at the radar. Nothing was showing on it. He'd managed it. He'd escaped.


	7. Travels Year 2: Return to Gotham Part 1

Bruce walked around the apartment he'd moved into in the Gotham slums. He'd been given an idea by Ra's during his time at Nanda Parbat; to continue his studies via correspondence. He'd also had Talia show up the week after his escape from Nanda Parbat, promising no reprisals from Ra's and the League, in exchange for one thing; Ra's wanted his plane back. Apparently, it had been a gift from a very influential politician and held some sentimental value.

That had been eight months ago. It was snowing outside, and the heating was turned off in the apartment. Of course, Bruce wasn't living there as Bruce Wayne. He'd come up with an alias, Matches Malone, and got a job at the docks, wearing a fake beard and dying his black hair a chestnut brown. It was his attempt to get to know the criminal fraternity he hoped to fight, through infiltration and study.

He sat down on the sofa, turning on the television, an old episode of _The Simpsons_ coming up. He grabbed the blanket beside him, pulling it over himself. As he watched, he heard a knock at the door. He sighed, turning off the TV as he stood and made for the front door. He reached down, grabbing the short wooden stick by the door before reaching for the handle and opening it.

A short, stocky man stood there. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and black tie, a top hat on his head and a monocle over his right eye. In the man's right hand, grasped tightly, was a black umbrella, whilst he wore a long, black overcoat. Behind the man was a much taller man in a black suit, the outline of a pistol slightly visible under his ill-fitting jacket.

"You Malone?" The short man asked, his voice having a thick British accent, turning to the large ape of a man behind him "You _did_ get the right place this time, right?"

"Yeah boss." The man said, his voice more akin to the usual accents found in Gotham.

"I'm Malone." Bruce replied, effecting an accent similar to those found in the Gotham suburbs, his usual one whilst posing as Malone "And you are?"

"You've not heard of me? I'm insulted." The short man sneered, barging in, before offering Bruce a gloved hand "Oswald Cobblepot. It's bloody freezing, turn on the heating will you!"

Bruce turned and made for the controls for the heating, scowling when Cobblepot couldn't see him. Of course he knew of Oswald Cobblepot. Once upon a time, his family had been _mostly_ legitimate, barring a few shady dealings. Then they'd got in deep with the Falcone's, and their only chance of staying afloat financially had been to get a specific Government contract. One Wayne Enterprises had beaten them out for. Cobblepot's parents had shown up shortly after, apparently having committed suicide.

Of course, it didn't take a genius to know what had happened. Cobblepot had given them something to knock them out, put them in the position of an embrace then tossed them in the river to drown. Or he'd had someone else do it. Either way, Cobblepot had inherited what little wealth remained, as well as their life insurance, leaving him with enough to pay off Falcone _and_ have a tidy sum left over. Enough to buy a small bar, which quickly expanded into an apparently _very_ profitable business, the Iceberg Lounge.

It looked like a businessman's dream come true. Until you looked closer. Doctored books, drug dealing, racketeering. If it was a minor felony, Cobblepot probably had one operating out of the Iceberg Lounge. He gave Falcone a cut and Falcone left him to it, and kept the Police off him.

"You're probably wondering why we're here, aren't you, lad?" Cobblepot said as Bruce returned from turning on the heating "I have a little proposition for you. One that'll pay pretty well, and, if you do a good job, I might even bring you more."

"Oh yeah?" Bruce said, cocking an eyebrow "What kind of proposition? I ain't doing no guys sexual favours."

"Nothing like that." Cobblepot laughed "I hear you're good with getting into places you're not supposed to be in. I just need a couple of files from someone's desk."

"What files?" Bruce asked, narrowing his eyes _"Whose_ desk?"

"Just a few lists on Roman Sionis' desk." Cobblepot said "The Sionis Steelmill has pretty light security compared to some of the places I heard you've been in the crews during heists of."

"There's a difference between a heist and being the only guy going in." Bruce said, knowing it would be _easier_ "How much you going to pay me for this?"

"I'm going to write down a number." Cobblepot said, his pet ape pulling out a pen and notepad, which Cobblepot took and began scribbling on "You get half now, and half when the job's done."

Cobblepot handed Bruce the slip of paper. The figure written down was twenty-five-hundred dollars. Pocket change for Bruce, but he couldn't let on about that. Hell, not even Alfred knew he was down there. He just knew Bruce had been supporting some of the less fortunate in the Burnley area of Gotham. He didn't know Bruce was with them.

"Deal." Bruce said, folding the piece of paper and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans "When do you want it by?"

"Monday." Cobblepot said, smirking as he offered Bruce his hand "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise." Bruce said, smirking "I believe there was mention of half now?"

"Of course." Cobblepot said, nodding to his colleague, who pulled a brown envelope from in his jacket, tossing it down on the couch "Just remember, Malone. You screw me, we'll be back. And we'll bring friends."

Bruce grimaced. He'd known Cobblepot would resort to threats at some stage, but hadn't expected it to be so abrupt. Then again, with the so called 'Penguin,' Bruce should've expected nothing less; his temper was infamous.

"I'll see myself out, lad." Cobblepot said, turning to his goon "Butch, leave an extra few hundred. I think our new friend may need a suit, on us, of course. Save him bringing the tone down when he brings my files on Monday."

"Thanks." Bruce said coolly as the ape set another few hundred dollar bills down on the sofa "See you Monday."

"That you will, lad." Cobblepot replied with a grin "I'll be seeing you."

Cobblepot walked out and Bruce cringed. He'd heard Cobblepot could make people's skin crawl, but hadn't believed it until now. He sighed. It was Friday, and Cobblepot wanted the files by Monday. Bruce had a job to prepare for.

...

Bruce stood on a rooftop of one of the auxiliary buildings across from the main building of the Sionis Steel Mill. He was wearing black combat pants, a black leather jacket, gloves and combat boots, with a military surplus combat belt, loaded with modified shuriken, explosive powders and smoke bombs, as well as a police issue taser and a USB flash drive, containing a programme designed to automatically copy the entire contents of a hard drive, before erasing any signs of itself from both the hard drive and the USB drive. If Cobblepot wanted Sionis' files, odds were, the Police would be interested too.

He wore a black balaclava with the mouth cut out, and the wrist blades from his time with the League of Assassins. Underneath, he wore the protective chest piece he'd fashioned for his fight with Bane, to provide protection for vital organs against knives and gunfire.

He surveyed the area. Most nineteen year olds wouldn't be doing this on a Saturday night. Then again, most nineteen year olds weren't posing as a criminal. He'd been hiding up there for the last five hours, since the last Security shift change. He knew another had to be due soon, and that was when he'd strike. When the opposition was at its weakest.

He stood up, beginning to make his way to the walkway connecting the building he was on to the central one. He'd noted the fire escape attached to it when he'd arrived. If he remembered the layout rightly from a class trip he'd been on in his mid teens, Sionis' Office should be attached to it. That was why he'd chosen the building he was on to start from.

As he reached the roof of the main building, he quickly looked around. No sign of any resistance. Everything was going to plan.

He began to move to the nearest window, checking for any kind of detection method. There wasn't. What was there was far more interesting.

Someone had already cut a circle in the glass, just big enough for a person to squeeze through. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Someone else was on a job there, and he had a feeling he knew who had sent them.

After all, Cobblepot wasn't one to leave loose ends. Bruce, or Matches, as Cobblepot knew him, would be a loose end. He was untested, without any loyalties. He was a wild card. Cobblepot would have wanted to make sure Bruce got what he wanted, then have him killed.

Bruce slowly slipped through the window. Cobblepot, and whoever Cobblepot had sent in, didn't know who they were dealing with. Didn't know the training Bruce had gone through.

He moved to the office door, moving his hand to the handle and gripping it tightly, quietly. It budged as he did; the door was unlocked. Slowly, he opened it, peering inside.

There was a young woman inside, wearing a skin tight, black leather bodysuit. She had a black hood up, and he could see the glint of a pair of goggles over her eyes. She was about half his size, and there was nowhere for her to be hiding any weapons; she hadn't been sent to kill him.

He'd been sent to kill her.

"I think you've got something of mine." He said, causing her to turn and face him with a start "I also think we've got the same employer."

"It's rude to sneak up on a lady." She said, smirking at him "Don't you know anything about manners?"

"You have no idea." He said "Hand over the file and walk away."

"And if I refuse." She said, slowly walking towards him, tracing a finger along his chest "What are you going to do then, big blue eyes?"

He hesitated. He couldn't actually kill her; he was there to learn how to infiltrate criminals, not become one. But he couldn't very well let her go back to Cobblepot or his alias would suddenly find itself on a hit list.

Unfortunately, he'd hesitated too long. The woman spun and kicked him in the chest, placing a foot on it as she stood over him, the smirk still on her face.

"Sorry, blue." She said "I've got to get this back to my employer."

"You mean Cobblepot?" Bruce said, grabbing her ankle and flipping her onto the floor, pinning her with his left leg "He hired me, expecting me to find you and kill you. When you get there, I guarantee he'll do it himself. So, I've got a proposal for you."

"I'll have to pass." She said, adding sarcastically "My mother always told me to make sure to get the ring before agreeing to proposals."

"Very funny." He said "Cobblepot will have us both killed if you show up. Leave now, with me keeping the file, and get out of Gotham. I'll give you a contact number, you can call on it and I'll wire you half the cut."

"Why would I only want _half?"_ She asked "You obviously haven't done this negotiating thing before."

"I think half and keeping your life sounds better than nothing and getting killed, don't you?" He replied, noting her silence "That's what I thought."

He stood up, before helping her to her feet. He held out a hand. She paused before reluctantly handing over the files and walking out of the room. He turned to the desk, moving over to it and turning on the computer. He quickly pulled out the flashdrive, plugging it in and watching as the virus began its work. After a few minutes, it finished the job, leaving Bruce to quickly leave before he was detected.

...

Bruce reached his apartment, climbing in the window. He'd dropped the flashdrive in the mailbox of Jim Gordon, with a note saying it was for his eyes only. The Lieutenant would be able to use it to get the ball rolling on a case to put Sionis away, and maybe, given the note about Cobblepot wanting it, start to build a case against him too.

Bruce pulled off the mask, running his hand through his hair; the balaclava really didn't leave a lot of cooling ability. Maybe he'd need to consider Barry's suggestion about the open mouth area a bit more seriously, not just for the sake of people's trust, but for the sake of ventilation.

"You know, I expected something bigger, given the gear you were packing." Came a voice from behind Bruce, who spun to see the young woman from earlier, perched on the window ledge "You're a hard man to follow."

"Didn't seem to stop you." Bruce said, quickly spinning around but knowing she'd already seen his face, complete with the lack of fake beard "Why'd you follow me?"

"I thought I'd thank you." She said, hopping down from the window ledge, slowly moving around him "So, got yourself a little secret identity, huh? How exactly does Bruce Wayne of all people manage to come back to Gotham without anyone hearing about it?"

"What makes you think I'm Bruce Wayne?" He asked "Maybe I just have one of those faces."

"Please. Your face is still plastered on a dozen magazine covers and newspaper articles. I may be a crook, but I still read; you topped last year's thirty under thirties to watch. Even beat out Lex Luthor." She said, smirking "Relax, your secret's safe with me. You let me go without, you know, killing me, so I'll keep your secret."

She removed the goggles before pulling back her hood, revealing a pair of dark eyes and dyed, jet black hair, with slight traces of brown roots showing at the top. She couldn't have been much older than Bruce. She leant in to kiss him, Bruce leaning back and catching her by her wrists as she did.

"Who are you?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Selena Kyle." She said "But my friends just call me 'Cat.'"

"Right..." He said, still holding her in position "And how old did you say you are?"

"Old enough." She said, smiling mischievously, beginning to lean forward again "Enough questions..."

Bruce stood, moving away from her. He knew evasive answers, and hers were most definitely that. Finally, he turned to face her.

"Go home, Selena." He said "I'm sure your parents are worried about you, and you've probably got homework."

"Yeah, they care." She scoffed "They care so much they left without so much as a good bye!"

Bruce paused. Finally, he moved to a dresser, pulling out a cheque book. He quickly wrote ten thousand dollars on it and turned to her, holding out the piece of paper.

"Make it out to yourself, whatever name your bank account is under." He said, seeing her eying the cheque hesitantly before walking over to her and pushing it into her hand "Take it."

"I don't need your charity, blue!" She said "What, you think you've got the monopoly on issues? I just need to feel something, like someone cares."

She reached into a cleverly concealed pocket, pulling out a drivers license and tossing it on the dresser. He picked it up and read it.

"FYI, I may not know your exact date of birth," She said "but I do know that you're 19 and I'm 23. So if anyone should be worrying about the age thing, it's me. Too bad for you."

She took the license from him, quickly kissing him before moving to the window, stopping as she climbed out of it.

"I would've rocked your world." She said with a mischievous smirk "See you around, kid."

She jumped down. Bruce stood there, gobsmacked for a moment. He moved to the table, going to pick up the cheque, before noticing it was gone. Along with the envelope Cobblepot had left earlier. She'd played him.

She'd played him and he'd let her.


	8. Travels Year 2: Return to Gotham Part 2

Jim Gordon sat at the desk in his study, going over files on his computer. He'd woke up that morning to find a pen drive in his mailbox, and when he'd plugged it in, he'd found a complete database of Roman Sionis' dealings. Both business and more illicit, apparently finally confirming police suspicions that he was the 'Black Mask' that had been behind several recent criminal activities. There was also a note attached;

 _Lieutenant,_

 _Please find attached files that may be of interest to you regarding the mobster known as Black Mask. Confirmation of his identity is inside._

 _Please take this information and use it with some discretion; another mobster I know to be of interest to you has expressed interest in this, and if you act at the right time, you may be able to kill two_ birds _with one stone._

 _Enough said. I'll contact you again if I find more._

 _A friend._

Jim had read the note a dozen times; it was typed and printed, on bog standard paper. Tracing it would be impossible, and he knew it. He regretted that 'the right time' wasn't specified in the note, but he supposed the less detailed, the better. At least the emphasis on the word _'birds'_ had made it clear that the other mobster was Oswald Cobblepot, AKA the Penguin.

He picked up his cell phone, beginning to dial, before the door creaked open. Jim turned, seeing his twelve year old daughter, Barbara, stood there, a steaming coffee cup in her hand.

"Mom said dinner's going to be half an hour." She said, walking in and handing him the cup, Jim looking at the white, frothy liquid in the cup with a small amount of brown powder on the top with some disgust "It's a low fat cappuccino. The doctor said to watch your cholesterol, so-"

"I get it, thanks sweetheart." Jim said, sipping the drink and grimacing "Needs sugar."

"That'd defeat the purpose of low fat, Dad." Barbara said with a laugh "What're you working on?"

"Just some case, boring stuff." Jim said, clicking off of the file "Head downstairs. Simpsons is on in ten minutes."

"Okay Dad." Barbara said, pecking him on the cheek "See you in a minute."

Barbara walked out, leaving Jim to keep working on the files. He smiled inwardly. Everything they could need to take down Sionis was right in front of him. It was just a matter of when.

...

Bruce sat in his apartment at his Computer. He was going over the files he'd had couriered to Penguin, and sent to Jim, trying to find out what was going on, and work out what the GCPD would do with it.

This was the part he excelled at; planning. It was like chess, a game he'd always played with Tommy as kids. Tommy had usually preferred to go for a long game, while Bruce's tactics had been a bit less _refined._ Since then, of course, he'd done a lot. Indeed, during his time with the League of Assassins, his evenings had often consisted of chess games with Bane, or _Risk;_ the Assassin had had a certain fascination with the more tactical aspects of the game, as well as Bruce's methods; probably trying to work out how to deal with him if the time came.

Bruce grimaced. He was nearly 20 years old, and already, he had enemies. Granted, he was also one of the richest men on the planet, but it still had to be some kind of record.

He closed down the computer, standing up and moving to the window. It was snowing. Not surprising, given the date; December 24th. He'd half considered making some calls, putting on a show as if he was just coming back, but with his meeting with Cobblepot in two days, he couldn't risk having any connections made.

He felt a breeze, turning to see Barry stood there, a rectangular box about the size of a toaster under his arm and a smile on his face.

"It's rude not to knock. And to just appear unannounced." Bruce said simply, moving to the kitchen and putting on the kettle "Coffee?"

"Provided you're not making it. I remember how bad your's is!" Barry laughed as he moved through "Thought I'd drop of your card and present personally. After all, it's only, what, a few hundred miles from here to Central City and back? I can do a round trip in about a minute."

"I know." Bruce replied as Barry took the kettle and mugs from him, beginning to make the coffee as Bruce shook the packet "No idea what this is..."

"I might've put it in a second box full of padding so you couldn't do exactly what you just tried." Barry said with a smirk, handing Bruce one of the two mugs of coffee he'd just made "Go on, open it."

Bruce tore off the paper, finding a non-descript brown box inside. He opened the top, reaching in through the brown packing paper inside before reaching a smaller, rectangular object. Bruce pulled it out and half smirked; it was a book about bats. Very clearly a children's book too.

"Funny." Bruce said, holding the book up before reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing a few crumpled bills, holding them out to Barry "Sorry, I didn't actually get you anything..."

"It's fine." Barry replied, taking the bills from Bruce, looking at them before removing one of them then holding the rest back out to the younger man "You know you just gave me two-thousand dollars, right?"

"You're planning a wedding." Bruce said with a smirk "I keep tabs on my friends, and saw the engagement announcement in the Central City Gazette. Go on, I've got plenty to spare, and you can call it a wedding present too if you like. And a birthday present. And the next decade's worth of Birthday and Christmas presents..."

"Deal." Barry said "So, you going to see Alfred?"

Bruce froze. He hadn't considered Alfred. That was a lie, he'd debated going up to the manner most days since he'd been back in Gotham. He just didn't like to admit it.

"No." Bruce answered finally "What I'm doing is too risky, I can't risk him knowing I'm back."

"He already knows." Barry smirked "You keep tabs on your friends? He's kept tabs on you. Apparently, even when you were in, what did he call it, Nanda Parbat? He used some old connections in British Intelligence, had them fly spy planes on courses that happened to cross it so he could keep up with you."

"So why hasn't he shown up?" Bruce asked, cocking an eyebrow "He was never subtle when I was younger. If he didn't like something, he'd tell me."

"He knows _why_ you're doing what you're doing, but he doesn't approve." Barry said "He called me shortly after you got back. Asked me to keep tabs using my police connections. I decided to go for _other_ means."

"Hence why the fastest man alive is always late..." Bruce said "You've been playing Alfred's errand boy."

"Only once a week." Barry said "The rest of the time, it's bad luck."

Bruce couldn't help but laugh. The whole time he'd known him, Barry had always been someone to be late for everything. Hell, he'd probably be late for his own funeral, which would probably come prematurely from some massive crisis, or maybe fighting something stupid like a Gorilla.

"Can you wait around for half an hour?" Bruce asked after a moment "I need to go use some dye stripper, get the brown out. People might find it odd if Matches Malone shows up at Wayne Manor."

"Sure." Barry said as Bruce walked out of the room and through to the bathroom "Why do you need me to wait around though, want a lift there?"

"No, I need a lift to Gotham Classics." Bruce called through "It's a classic car dealership. Alfred needs a Christmas present."

...

Alfred sipped his tea whilst watching the news. There were reports of a break in at the Sionis Steel Mill. Apparently, the culprit and what was stolen were currently unknown. Either that or the company didn't want to comment.

That could happen. Alfred knew how businessmen could be, wanting to appear all powerful. The number of times the previous owner, Richard Sionis, had tried to appear so whilst talking to Thomas Wayne was ridiculous. Apparently his son, Roman Sionis, tried the same with the media.

He rose when he heard the doorbell. It was being pressed repeatedly, very quickly. He moved through from his position in the primary living room to the front door. He was glad when the ringing stopped, a second before Alfred opened the door.

Stood there was the form of Bruce, shivering in the cold. He hadn't picked up a coat other than a relatively thin thing; even if it was wool, it was too thin for the cold air and snow. Bruce smirked.

"Hey old man." He said "You miss me?"

"Oh my god, get in here!" Alfred said, pulling Bruce inside, beginning to help Bruce out of his coat "Get upstairs and change out of those wet clothes now!"

"Yes sir!" Bruce said, half smirking as he gave a mock salute, beginning to skulk up the stairs, trailing water in his wake as he did.

Alfred sighed. It was almost like Bruce was a child again, coming in from the snow and ice, soaking wet, and ruining god only knew how many rugs and carpets with the water he trailed in.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

...

Bruce looked at himself in the mirror. He'd changed into a pair of black suit trousers, and a currently unbuttoned white shirt. He could see the scars dotted over his chest. Each one had it's own story, whether it was from his training with the League of Assassins, his recent escapades in Gotham, even a couple from his internship with the CCPD.

He slowly did up the shirt. As he did, there was a knock. After a second, Alfred walked in.

"Would you like me to move your new car to the garage?" Alfred asked, pausing "I never knew you liked classic cars, Master Bruce."

"I don't." Bruce said, smirking as he grabbed the keys off of the bed and tossed them to Alfred "But you do. Merry Christmas. Sorry, it's the 1966 DB5 rather than the '63 like you've wanted, and it's black rather than grey, but it was all they had."

"You bought-" Alfred began, a small smile forming on his face "Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Alfred." Bruce said with a smile "That's part one of your present."

"Part one?" Alfred asked "What's part two?"

"I'm back, Alfred." Bruce replied "I'm back for good. It's time to get to what I've been planning."

"Not yet." Alfred said "First, you're finishing your studies. _Then_ you can start your plotting."

"Fine." Bruce replied, knowing it was pointless to argue "Now, what's in the kitchen? I figure I'll make myself a sandwich."

"No you won't, sir." Alfred said, before smiling warmly "Mr. Allen called a couple of hours ago, told me he intended to make you come home. The turkey will be finished in little over an hour."

Bruce grinned. It was good to be home.

 **...**

 **Sorry for the short chapter here, guys. Now we're going to have a two year time skip, to Bruce having finished his studies and entering Wayne Enterprises. I hope you all enjoyed this (I know I loved my little Flash easter eggs) and hope you enjoy what's to come. R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	9. It's All in the Preparation

Bruce walked into the warehouse down by the docks, stepping onto a hidden elevator and slowly being lowered into a bunker. He'd bought it through a shell company six months after he'd officially returned to Gotham. That was nearly two years ago.

Inside, was a number of high tech machines. A fully equipped vehicle maintenance bay, a number of large super computers and an armoury containing a large cache of melee weapons, body armour and various pieces of equipment based on those used by the League of Assassins. He hadn't actually had any use for the armoury and it's contents as of yet; he'd given Alfred his word that he wouldn't go and get involved in the state of Gotham until his studies were completed, and he'd meant it.

Fortunately, he'd graduated earlier that afternoon. He moved over to the large super computer, pressing a few buttons before entering the password to log in to the base systems. Of course, there were several other layers of security in place for other functions, but he only needed the base systems.

He quickly keyed in the commands to bring up the Wayne Enterprises mainframe. It was time for him to begin what he wanted to, and to do that, he'd need equipment. He quickly moved from directory to directory, before reaching R&D. As he did, his cell phone rang.

"Hello?" He said, answering the phone without looking.

"Mr. Wayne, when you access our computers through your mainframe, it leaves a very large foot print." Came the voice of Lucius Fox "As soon as you entered the system, I had a red flag come up in my office."

"Sorry Lucius." Bruce said "I trust you can take care of that?"

"Well, that depends." Lucius' reply came, his smirk actually audible in his voice "Can I trust you to come and talk to me rather than hacking into _my_ company's mainframe?"

"Technically, it's _my_ company, you just run it." Bruce said with half a laugh "I'll be there in half an hour, we can talk about it then. Meet me in the R &D department."

Bruce hang up before logging out of the computer. He moved to the elevator, pressing a control panel by it.

" _Security measures activated."_ Came a mechanical female voice as Bruce was raised back up into the warehouse _"Lockdown in thirty seconds."_

Bruce walked out, closing the door behind him, a mechanical locking noise coming from the door as he walked away to the black Porsche sat outside.

...

Lucius Fox sat at his old desk in the R&D office of Wayne Enterprises. He remembered when he'd first discussed Bruce Wayne's plans with the young man six months ago. He'd tried to talk him out of it, citing the fact that it was far from what Thomas Wayne would've wanted for his son, for the young man to spend his nights risking life and limb in the pursuit of what he called justice, but what sounded to Lucius like vengeance.

The response he'd got was that if he wouldn't help Bruce, then the young man would just have to go through third parties to get his equipment. Of course, that would present all kinds of potential problems; less efficient equipment, a higher degree of risk, a higher chance of being caught and ruining his father's name. Lucius would be lying if, as Thomas Wayne's friend, he hadn't considered that last bit as a problem.

He looked up as the door opened, Bruce walking in and leaning against the wall. Bruce stood up and moved over to the coffee maker in the corner.

"You want one?" Lucius asked as he poured himself a cup, Bruce shaking his head in response "Fair enough. What can I do for you, Mr. Wayne?"

"A couple of things." Bruce said "You mentioned last year a military combat suit in development. What's the status of that?"

"Prototype stage." Lucius said "It can take knives and small arms fire, but anything more than a handgun or low calibre SMG will rip through it like paper. The project's shelved. Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to borrow it." Bruce replied with a smirk "What's the equipment storage on it like?"

"External utility belt." Lucius replied "It uses a modular design, enabling the storage to be customised. Guessing you want that too?"

"Yeah." Bruce said "Any chance you've got something for hang gliding that can be carried around."

"The mark two memory cloth." Lucius said "Technically, it's a memory polymer. It's designed with fighter pilots in mind; a pilot who was taking fire could eject, then use a current through it to cause it to take on a rigid structure which could be used to parachute to safety, programmed to respond to either alternating or direct current. It can then be programmed to respond to the other current to form another structure, most likely a tent for setting up camp."

"I'll take it." Bruce said, grinning "Can you have it delivered to the address I gave you?"

Lucius nodded, setting up the delivery for later that day. He looked up to Bruce again, a small smile on his face.

"Will that be all?" Lucius asked.

"I think so, Lucius." Bruce said with a grin, the two of them walking out of the office before Bruce stopped, something having caught his eye "What is _that?"_

Bruce practically ran over to the object that had caught his eye. It was a large, gun metal grey tank like vehicle, with a low body. There was a strip of clear material on the front of the cockpit, the canopy of which was on a sliding mechanism. On the foremost part of the long front section was a jet intake, a rocket booster on the back.

"That is the Battallion Assault and Tactical Mobile combat platform." Lucius said "Designed for urban operations, it could replace both police patrol vehicles and tanks in one swoop. That is, if it didn't cost a hundred and fifty million dollars to build."

"How fast does it go?" Bruce asked.

"Zero to 60 in 3.1 seconds. It can cut that down to 1.8 if the booster is employed" Lucius said, half smiling "She may not be viable for the government, but she's my baby. Can't bring myself to scrap her."

"I'll take it." Bruce said quickly "It's gorgeous..."

"That she is." Lucius said, smirking at Bruce "How did I know you'd want the car?"

"Guess you just know how young men's minds work." Bruce said, turning and beginning to walk out "Can you have those delivered to the warehouse this evening?"

"Can do." Lucius said "Why do you ask?"

"I'm going hunting." Bruce said, walking out of the door.

...

Bruce walked through the doors of Wayne Manor. Outside, there were signs of work being done to the foundations of the structure. He walked through to the kitchen, moving to the fridge and pulling out some ham, moving to the counter before observing a plate with steak and fries with a side salad on it. He moved back to the fridge, putting the ham away before moving to the steak. Still warm.

"Mr. Fox called when you were on your way home." Came Alfred's voice from the door as he entered "I took the liberty of whipping up a little dinner for you."

"Thanks Alfred." Bruce said, picking up a fry and quickly putting it in his mouth "How're the workmen doing with the foundations?"

"They've almost finished fitting your new _panic room."_ Alfred said wryly "They're slightly confused as to why you want one built into a large cavern however."

"Because it doubles as a nuclear bomb shelter." Bruce smirked "That's the story I gave them, anyway. It's technically true; my Grandfather was very paranoid about Nuclear War, and had those caverns converted to withstand a nuclear blast."

"I see, sir." Alfred said "I understand you're to take delivery of some new items at the Warehouse this evening."

"Lucius really can't keep a secret, can he?" Bruce said, shaking his head as he picked up a fry and stuck it in his mouth.

"From me, sir?" Alfred said with a grin "No one can."

"You'll need to teach me how you manage that." Bruce said "It could come in handy."

"I'm rather intimidating when I want to be." Alfred said, smirking as he added "Like the time I caught you and Mr. Dent with a crate of beer when you were fourteen."

"You promised we'd never talk about that!" Bruce said indignantly as he put the dinner in the microwave "I'll finish that later. I need to get down to the docks."

Alfred went to say something, failing to do so before Bruce had darted out the door. Alfred sighed.

He hated when Bruce disappeared like that.

...

Bruce walked into the warehouse, a number of crates being brought inside. Lucius was overseeing the delivery personally, directing the workmen to various spots in the apparently empty warehouse. Of course, both he and Bruce knew those were the locations of various hidden freight elevators in the floor.

"Everything here, Mr. Fox?" Bruce asked.

"Everything's here, Mr. Wayne." Lucius confirmed, handing Bruce a clipboard with some papers on it "The invoice. Shame, I accidentally shredded the other copy with some papers after making sure these men would get paid."

"Well, that was pretty clumsy." Bruce said, smirking "Should I be worried about my company?"

"So it is still your company, Mr. Wayne?" Lucius grinned "I was beginning to think you were a silent board member."

"With 65 percent of shares." Bruce replied, rubbing his eyes as he yawned "Sorry. Long day."

"Why don't you go to bed?" Lucius asked.

"I've got things to do." Bruce said "Tonight."

"Well then, you're in luck." Lucius said with a small smile as he handed Bruce a USB drive "I've uploaded these programmes to the polymer. I thought you'd like them."

...

A few hours later, Bruce sat in the bunker. He was wearing the grey combat suit Lucius had sent over, a bat stencilled onto it. He wore black combat boots and gauntlets like he'd had during his training with the League of Assassins. The yellow belt on his waist had a number of pouches on it, along with a circular gyro mechanism on the buckle. On his back was a long, black cape.

He'd based the basic design on the suit he'd made for fighting Bane. Along the walls were various shuriken shaped like bats, along with smoke bombs and the like. He stood up and moved to a glass case in the corner.

Inside was an armoured head and neckpiece, with an open mouth area and white lenses over the eyes. On top were two long, sharp points. He pressed his hand on the panel in front of it, the device scanning it before opening the case.

Bruce withdrew the cowl, putting it on. It connected seamlessly to the top of the suit, the colour change being the only hint that it was a separate piece, it sides of the cowl ending underneath the cape.

The one downside of this design is the mobility on the neck was reduced. He had some head rotation, but it wasn't complete. Still, this was just a prototype. He could work out the kinks.

"Why bats?" Alfred's voice came from behind Bruce, causing him to turn around "What made you choose bats?"

"My parents were killed because of my fear of bats." Bruce answered "I want the criminals of this city, the cowardly and superstitious lot that they are, to know the fear I felt as a boy."

"And the car?" Alfred said, gesturing to the vehicle Bruce had got from Lucius "It doesn't exactly match your motif."

"No." Bruce said, shifting his voice to a deep, throaty growl "But it looks cool."

" _Dispatch, we have a 23105 on Kane Avenue."_ Came a female voice from the computer as it's police scanner automatically engaged _"Suspect possibly has his wife in the car as a hostage."_

"Well then." Bruce said "Time to get to work."

 **...**

 **So, we've got the set up for Batman to come onto the scene. For those who don't know, a 23105 is someone driving under the influence of narcotics. This is part of a set up for something later, but in the meantime, R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	10. First Night

Jim Gordon drove his BMW down Kane Avenue at high speeds. Even since making Captain, he liked to go out on patrol, and he'd been in the general vicinity when the call of someone driving under the influence of narcotics had come in. Since then, he'd been pursuing the red Porsche. What he hadn't been, however, was ready for what was coming next.

" _Dispatch, have we got any special units in the area?"_ Came the voice of one of the junior beat cops, Bullock, over the radio.

" _That's a negative."_ Came the response of Sarah Essen, the Detective Gordon had arm twisted into manning the radio for the night _"What've you got, Harvey?"_

" _It's a black..."_ Bullock paused _"...Tank."_

...

Bruce sat in the cockpit of the car, speeding down the streets. According to the tracking system fitted in every Police car in Gotham, provided by Wayne Enterprises, he was coming up on one of the cars that had stayed on a very erratic course since the chase had began. He couldn't distinguish between one cop car and another without tipping them off to the fact that he was tracking them.

Of course, that didn't make much of a difference now. One of the Police officers had called in his car. The next part wasn't exactly what Bruce had planned for.

" _All units, be on the lookout for an 11-54."_ Came the voice of the woman on dispatch _"Car has been described as a black tank."_

That was all Bruce needed. Now the Police were going to be looking for him as well. That would make dealing with this more difficult. Especially if he wanted to avoid casualties. After all, casualties in the case of criminals were one thing. In the case of Police officers, it was a whole other ball game.

He sped round the corner, coming up on the car he'd been tracking for the last several minutes. It was a black BMW, one which Bruce had seen before. It was Jim's car.

"Engage voice modulation. Tap into Captain Gordon's radio." Bruce said, getting a response from the computer "Captain Gordon, this is B-"

He froze. He hadn't actually come up with a name yet. He'd meant to say 'a friend' but he slipped up. Finally, he spoke again.

"This is a friend. I'd like to ask you to pull back from your pursuit." Bruce spoke "I'm attempting to minimise collateral damage, and my vehicle is better suited to pursuing that car."

" _Who is this? How did you get onto my line?"_ Came Jim's voice _"Dispatch, this is Captain Gordon, someone's-"_

"They can't hear you." Bruce cut him off "Captain... Jim... Please, trust me. Your car has a top speed around 120 miles per hours. Mine caps out far above that, and definitely over the Porsche's. You can maybe maintain distance, but I can stop him."

" _Why should I trust you?"_ Jim's response came through as Bruce pulled alongside his car _"Near as I can tell, you're a madman in a tank!"_

"Right now, this madman in a tank is your best chance of avoiding additional casualties." Bruce said, cutting the line as he pulled ahead "Computer, prepare forward grapnel."

" _Warning; Grapnel cable tolerances will be exceeded if operated at these speeds."_ The computer said _"Suggest alternative course of action."_

"Override." Bruce said "Lock onto the car so that it won't flip and fire cable!"

A panel above the jet turbine opened, a grapnel launcher raising out of it. On Bruce's monitor, it displayed a targeting system attempting to lock. Finally, the crosshairs lined up with the car and turned red. A second later, the cable fired, puncturing the back of the car.

As it did, Bruce slammed on the breaks, the car stopping almost instantly, the Porsche in front stopping abruptly, as it's wheels and axels kept rolling. Bruce hit a control beside him, the canopy opening as his seatbelt was released, Bruce climbing out and moving to the Porsche, just as the bald man inside, who looked about thirty, exited the car, holding a knife to the woman's throat.

"Leave us alone!" The man yelled, his voice high "She sent me away! I won't let you take me back, I won't let anyone take me back!"

"Let her go." Bruce growled, before yelling "Now!"

"No... I won't..." The man said "If I do that, you'll take me back... Back to Arkham... He'll have me again!"

"Who will have you again?" Bruce asked, slowly reaching behind him "What happened to you? What's your name?"

"Zsasz... Victor Zsasz..." The man said "My wife sent me away... Said I was crazy. Well, who's crazy now?"

Bruce saw Zsasz's hand twitch. If Bruce didn't act now, Zsasz's wife would have her throat torn out by the knife in her husband's hand. There was no choice.

Bruce pulled the shuriken from his belt, quickly throwing it at Zsasz's hand. The man jerked it away from his wife's throat as the projectile cut his hand. As he did, Bruce charged forward, tackling Zsasz to the ground and punching him in the face, knocking him out.

"Oh my god... Thank you!" The woman said, running over to Bruce and hugging him tightly "Thank you so much! He was going to kill me like the others!"

"Others?" Bruce asked, shifting awkwardly to release himself from the woman's grip "What others?"

"Victor Zsasz is a convicted serial killer." Came a voice from behind Bruce, who turned around to see Jim stood there, his gun raised "Keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Lower your weapon, Captain." Bruce growled, narrowing his eyes in the cowl "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm the one with the gun!" Jim said "Who are you?"

"I told you." Bruce replied "A friend."

Bruce reached down for his belt quickly, Gordon getting a shot off. It impacted Bruce's chest, the suit preventing the bullet from penetrating, but not absorbing all of the impact as Bruce felt one of his ribs crack. He staggered back as he pulled the small pellet he'd been reaching for from one of the pouches on his belt, dropping it and watching as smoke rose from the cracked capsule.

Once he could no longer see Jim, he quickly dashed to the car, half climbing, half falling into the cockpit, pressing the control to close the canopy. As he did, the car engaged the metal bar that acted as a seatbelt.

"Plot a route back to base." Bruce said, moments before bullets began to rain on the shell of the car, Bruce looking up to see a SWAT team stood beside Gordon, all of them firing "Now!"

" _Unable to comply."_ The computer replied _"We are surrounded. Risk of collateral damage too high."_

"Damn it." Bruce said, looking down at the map on the HUD, turning the car around to face the wall of the car park behind him "Engage attack mode."

" _Attack mode initiating."_ The computer said as the cockpit was enveloped in a red glow, the main body of the car shifting around the cockpit, until Bruce was completely inside the car, a series of computer screens providing him with visual _"Attack mode online."_

"Firing missiles." Bruce said, seeing a missile launched from the car impact the wall, blowing a hole in it "Disengage attack mode."

" _Disengaging."_ The voice of the computer replied once more, as the car returned to it's original configuration.

Bruce pulled back the lever controlling the afterburner right back, the car accelerating rapidly as he also slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator. In front of him, he could see another wall fast approaching.

" _Warning; collision imminent."_ The computer's voice said.

"Disengage all vocal subroutines!" Bruce said, seeing the same warning flashing up on his terminal "Not quite as annoying..."

The car crashed through the wall, Bruce swinging the car round into the street. Ahead, he could see a police roadblock. He spun the car, turning in the opposite direction.

"Engage auto-drive." Bruce said "Target; home base."

The car accelerated, heading towards the entrance to the chamber under the warehouse located by the river. As it did, an object impacted the strip on the front of the windscreen, cracking it. A second later, the windscreen shattered, Bruce feeling a sharp pain as a bullet tore through his left shoulder.

" _Structural integrity compromised."_ The car said, overriding his earlier command to disable vocal subroutines _"Engaging attack mode."_

Bruce watched as the car once again encased the cockpit in the main body of the vehicle. As it did, he put his right hand to his left shoulder, beginning to press down hard, screaming in pain as he did.

" _Master Bruce?"_ Came Alfred's voice down the comm. line _"What's going on? The readouts show the car's compromised."_

"Police snipers..." Bruce choked out "High calibre bullets penetrated the windscreen. I've been shot."

" _My god."_ Alfred said _"I'm taking remote control of the car. We'll get you out of that situation then we'll get you medical help."_

"No doctors, Alfred." Bruce replied "I can't do this from inside a prison cell."

" _This is not a time for debates, young man."_ Alfred shot back _"The Police chopper with the snipers is directly above Wayne Tower. Engaging directed EMP."_

On the monitor, Bruce saw the chopper that was pursuing him seemingly drop from the sky, falling about ten feet to the top of Wayne Tower. The men inside would have whiplash, maybe a few broken bones, but they'd survive. On another monitor, Bruce saw the cars pursuing him suddenly cut engines, as a wall came into view, between him and Police.

" _Pursuers lost."_ Alfred said _"You're welcome."_

Bruce couldn't reply. He was feeling weak from the blood loss. Slowly, the world turned to black around him, Alfred's cries for a response being the last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

...

Bruce shot up from his position laying down. He was in a large, white, sterile room, wearing a surgical gown. It smelt of hospital.

He looked around. A number of bloodied gauze pads were around him, along with a drip containing a bloodbag attached to his arm. He looked around for a moment, before clocking Alfred stood by the door.

"This isn't the base." Bruce said to Alfred simply "Where am I?"

"You had a nasty shock, Mr. Wayne." Came the voice of a woman, a woman in her late fifties to early sixties with greying black hair wearing a lab coat coming into view "Your Father never would've been so reckless as to go into the city at night on his own."

"My... You knew my Father?" Bruce asked, confused "Who are you? Where am I?"

"Doctor Leslie Thompkins. You're in my clinic in Burnley." The woman replied "To answer your question, I worked with your Father at the Hospital. You were out in the general area, apparently to visit a club. You were recognised and mugged, then shot. Fortunately, Alfred had been shadowing you and heard the shot. You're lucky the bullet passed straight through or you'd be in a much worse condition."

"Burnley?" Bruce asked, confused "Last I remember I was-"

"Doctor Thompkins said shock was to be expected, sir." Alfred cut in "No one expects you to remember what _really_ happened."

Bruce nodded slowly. He knew Alfred had jumped in to save him from admitting what he'd been doing. He was definitely thankful for that; whatever pain medication Thompkins had given him was affecting his lucidity somewhat, or at least affecting his ability to keep his mouth shut.

"Right." Bruce said, turning to Thompkins "Thanks, Doc. I owe you one."

"A grant would be nice." Thompkins quipped, Bruce nodding slowly to Alfred, who withdrew a chequebook and handed it to Bruce "Wait, I was joking."

"Doc, you just saved my life." Bruce replied "The way I see it, I have a medical bill to pay here."

"Actually, this is a free clinic." Thompkins corrected as Bruce pulled out the cheque and handed it to her, Thompkins' eyes widening as she read it _"How many_ zeroes is that?"

"Seven. Might be eight." Bruce said nonchalantly "Enough to keep the lights on. I just have a favour to ask."

"What sort of favour." Thompkins asked, her eyes narrowing slightly "You forget, I knew your Father. He had a tendency to ask for favours in pulling pranks in his younger days."

"Nothing like that." Bruce said, smirking "I'd just like to ask that you keep my visit here quiet, and that you allow me to come in if I need to see a doctor, off the books. You know how it is; when you're Gotham's most eligible bachelor, you don't get much in the way of privacy."

Thompkins paused for a moment. Finally, she smirked.

"Your Father liked to think he was Gotham's most eligible bachelor too, before he met your Mother. Never did agree with him." She said, chuckling slightly to herself "You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Wayne."

"Please," He replied, flashing the smile that had ended up on the cover of so many magazines "Call me Bruce."

 **...**

 **There we go. Initially, the end of this chapter was to be it's own thing, but I decided this way works better. Next up, we're going to see Gordon begin his investigation into "The man in the tank dressed like a bat." Plus we'll catch up with an old friend haha. R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	11. Beginning the Investigation (UPDATED)

Jim walked into the GCPD precinct. Commissioner Loeb had called a briefing of all the senior officers attached to the GCPD, meaning Jim actually got to visit the main precinct rather than the secondary one he ran down in Park Row, or 'Crime Alley' as it had been nicknamed following the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

"He's in a mood." Warned a tall, well built man with blonde hair, Lieutenant Flass "Apparently, he wants to know _how_ that psycho you took a shot at last night got away, and why he's not in Arkham."

"He'll know when I do!" Jim shot back with a small smirk "Don't worry, Flass, I'll catch him."

"Good." Flass said, grinning back "Otherwise, maybe one of _us_ will get him."

They both knew what Flass was talking about. Jim might have an itchy trigger finger at times, but he was one of the few cops who weren't crooked. If Flass or one of the several other GCPD officers who were on the take got hold of the vigilante that had chased down Zsasz, he'd probably find himself beaten into threatening people so as to re-enforce budget increases that suited Loeb.

Either way, Loeb didn't want that bat man that Jim had met caught. He _wanted_ him on the streets, _wanted_ him worrying crooks. After all, the man had been driving a tank and had _avoided_ killing anyone; that showed a weakness that could be pressed.

Jim had seen several people pressed by Loeb and his people. Still, Jim wouldn't let that deter him.

He was going to find the bat man. Before Loeb.

...

Jim sat in the briefing, feeling bored. At the small table beside Jim's was Detective Essen, her long blonde hair tied up in a pony tail, whilst Flass was stood behind Loeb, a plump man in his late forties. Meanwhile, Officer Bullock was operating the slideshow projector for Loeb, going over the information.

"So, now that we've gone over what happened last night, it's time to go over our plan." Loeb said "Effective immediately, the secondary precinct is shut down."

"What?!" Jim roared as he stood up, the table in front of him nearly flipping "Commissioner, can I have a private word?"

"In a moment, Jim." Loeb said, smirking "In it's place will stand a new operation. This 'bat man' wants to use tanks? Well, we're deploying a special crimes task force with one purpose, and one purpose only. They are going to bring in the bat man. Dead or alive. Leading this task force will be our own _Captain_ Flass. Serving as his second in command will be Captain Gordon."

"Commissioner, outside." Jim said, half growling _"Now."_

Jim waited until he and Loeb were both outside before letting loose with what he had to say.

"What the hell?" Jim said "That's _my_ command. Flass can join as my second in command, but there'll be rules. Any cops found on the take in my department are immediately disciplined, and he won't be exempt."

"That's _why_ Arn' is getting the command." Loeb said, a small smile appearing on his face as he said "He's a team player."

"A team player?" Jim said, grabbing Loeb by the scruff of his neck "How about I show you a team player?"

"Relax, Jim." Loeb said, Jim slacking his grip, Loeb responding by straightening his suit "I'm willing to compromise. I'll offer you joint command. On a condition."

"Which is?" Jim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You and Arn' work the bat man case together." Loeb said "That is non-negotiable. As to who gets the office... I'll leave that to you lads."

Jim grimaced. The last person he wanted as a partner was Flass. However, if he didn't take it, he wouldn't get anywhere. In this case, he didn't have a choice.

"Deal." He said simply "But _I_ get the office."

...

Bruce sat in the living room of Wayne Manor, the TV on. While reports of his car had made it into the media, along with some low res images taken on a camera phone from on top of a car park, there was nothing about him. He smirked to himself.

He'd not _wanted_ to make the news. It was nice to see the compliments thrown at his driving on the report, but he didn't really give a crap. Apparently, the Police were suppressing reports of the Batman who'd fought them, and that suited him just fine.

He pressed a control on the remote, turning off the TV. As he did, he stood, turning towards the door. He'd been able to avoid using a sling for his bad arm by use of a mechanical brace Lucius had delivered that morning. It had been designed to help soldiers who'd been shot and were a long distance from base, but in a pinch, it'd keep Bruce's mobility pretty close to normal.

Only someone who knew what to look for, and was _actively_ looking for it would realise he'd taken a bullet the night before. Someone like the man stood in the door way.

"Where do you think you're going?" Alfred asked, folding his arms over his chest "Doctor Thompkins prescribed _at least_ two weeks bed rest!"

"And I'm prescribing some time down at the warehouse." Bruce said, going to move past Alfred and finding himself gripped by the bad shoulder, being brought to the floor in seconds "What the f-"

"If an old man like me can bring you down that easily, then you can take some time away from the scum of Gotham." Alfred said, releasing his grip "You proved your point last night. You also proved you're not ready."

"What are you talking about?" Bruce said, picking himself up and looking at his shoulder, noticing a small patch of blood on the blue shirt he wore "Great, it's seeping..."

"Which proves my point." Alfred said simply "Costume or not, you're a man, you're flesh and blood, just like the rest of us."

"No. I need to be more than that." Bruce said, pausing as he pressed a control on the wrist worn device Lucius had given him, wincing as the servos on the shoulder brace tightened, clamping down on the wound "As a man, I'm flesh and blood, I can be destroyed. I need to be something more. That's what Batman is."

"So it's _Batman_ now, is it?" Alfred said, shaking his head as he said "Was that a suggestion of your friend, Mr. Allen's?"

"Barry doesn't even know I've started this yet." Bruce said, brushing past Alfred "He'd probably give me the same talk you are."

"He'd be right." Alfred said, following Bruce through the house as he headed towards to the front door "You've always had what could be called an obsessive personality, but this? This is something different, something worse."

Bruce paused. Could Alfred be right? Was he obsessed? No, that couldn't be it. He was doing this so that no one else would end up like he had. A victim. More than that, he was making sure he _wasn't_ one anymore.

"I'm doing this for the good of the people of Gotham." Bruce said as he moved towards the door "I'll see you later."

...

Jim and Flass sat in Jim's car. They'd spent the morning going over the crime scene from the night before, and reviewing the footage from Jim's car's camera. The bat man had been methodical, calculating. More than that, though, he'd had more than one opening to take Zsasz down lethally, and refused to take it.

"Guy's a retard." Flass said, biting into the hotdog he held "Should've killed Flass when he had the chance."

"What about the fact that he took a bullet and barely flinched?" Jim asked "It was like he had some kind of, I don't know, body armour?"

"Or maybe he's a man of steel." Flass laughed "With Central City having a guy in red and yellow spandex running around as a blur, I can imagine weirder things than a bullet proof guy."

"Then why the tank?" Jim asked, shaking his head "No, that was a guy in a protective suit. He was too hesitant to be anything else."

"Then where'd he get it?" Flass said, shaking his head "Not like everyone has a tank lying around."

"No." Jim said, pausing "I can think of someone who might though."

...

Bruce pulled up to the front of Wayne Manor. He'd gone down to the warehouse, just to go over the damage to the suit and try to repair it. He'd managed a patch job, although it had left what looked like a scar on the material. However, it was something he'd seen in the notes from Blackgate that had got his attention.

He got out of the car and moved towards the front door. As he did, he noticed the black BMW round the side of the building. They had company.

"Alfred?" He called as he walked in "Do we have guests?"

"Yes you do, Mr. Wayne." Came a voice from the top of the stairs, Bruce looking up to see a tall man with blonde hair, Jim stood behind him "Or is it 'the bat man'?"

"Excuse me?" Bruce asked, faking an indignant tone "Sorry, I don't believe we've met, Mr..."

" _Captain_ Arnold Flass." The man said, slowly walking down the stairs and squaring up to Bruce, before pushing him, Bruce biting his tongue to avoid screaming in pain as his injury was hit "You look pissed off man. Want to hit me?"

"Captain Gordon, I'd appreciate it if you and your assosciate left my home immediately." Bruce said, looking to Jim "Unless you came with a warrant, Jim?"

"We just wanted to ask some questions, Bruce." Jim replied "Last night, there was-"

"Some whack job with a tank, I saw it on the news." Bruce said "To answer your inevitable questions, no, it wasn't me and no my company hasn't lost any prototypes lately."

"Bullshit." Flass said, pushing Bruce again "Come on, bat boy. Make a move."

Bruce felt his fists clenching. As he did, there was a cough from the top of the stairs. Flass and Bruce looked up, seeing Alfred stood behind Jim. He straightened his jacket, making the outline of the gun holster in his jacket apparent.

"I believe Mr. Wayne asked you to leave." Alfred said to Flass "Feel free to come back _if_ you can get a warrant. Otherwise, this is harassment and I do believe, as you're trespassing, and entered the house under false pretences, I'm within my rights to have you arrested. If you don't mind, Captain Gordon?"

"Tempting." Jim said, a small smile forming on his face "Come on, Flass, it's time we left. Sorry about this Bruce. Nice to see you, Alfred."

"Always a pleasure." Alfred said, slowly making his way down the stairs, holding a hand out to Flass "Captain."

"Whatever." Flass said, shaking his head "C'mon, Gordon."

"I think you've forgotten who calls the shots, Flass." Jim said, smirking "See you later, Bruce."

"See you." Bruce said simply, watching as Jim and Flass left, closing the door behind them, before Bruce turned to face Alfred "We need to talk."

"What is it, sir?" Alfred asked.

"The man who killed my parents got out today." Bruce said "Jack Napier, Joe Chill, whatever he wants to call himself. He's walking free."

"I see." Alfred said "What are you planning?"

"He's going to meet Batman." Bruce said, pausing before he said "I'm going to show him what he made. And then, I'm going to kill him."

 **...**

 **So, here's the next chapter. We can see here what the angry young man that is Bruce Wayne thinks he's capable of, and to say Gordon and Flass have their eyes on him is an understatement. We'll just have to see where it goes. R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	12. Ace Chemicals

**Okay, so before I start this chapter, I'd like to apologise to anyone who read the last one within a couple of hours of it's upload. I inadvertently put the wrong file up, resulting in chapter 11 of Volume** _ **two**_ **being put in where the chapter for this fic was intended to go. This has been rectified now. Please enjoy.**

 **...**

Jim and Flass sat in Jim's office, a board with a spider web of suspects on the wall. Among the list were Harvey Dent, Thomas Elliot, a couple of city councilmen, a man named Edward Nigma who'd had intelligence levels recorded in the area bordering on genius in the past, and, in spite of his having been in Metropolis, Lex Luthor. Flass had suggested Oliver Queen, but Jim had dismissed it due to Queen having been killed when his Father's yacht went down with the two of them on it last year. Besides, the idea of Oliver Queen, arguably the most selfish man on the planet, being a vigilante who could get himself hurt or killed, was laughable.

Almost as laughable as the idea of their initial, now discounted, primary suspect. Bruce Wayne. Unfortunately, a Doctor Thompkins had come in with Bruce, and informed Flass and Jim that she'd treated Bruce at the same time as they were pursuing the bat man, after he'd been mugged. After a lot of pressure being applied by Jim for Bruce to look for the guy, Bruce had decided he didn't want to press charges; it wasn't like they'd taken anything he couldn't replace on a whim.

"It's bullshit." Flass said "Wayne comes in with some doc, and suddenly he's no longer a suspect?"

"She's a Doctor, Flass." Jim said, rolling his eyes "She's not going to lie for him."

"This is Gotham City, in case you've forgotten. Everyone has a price." Flass said, smirking as he added "Even you."

"Yeah right." Jim scoffed, leaning forward and looking at his computer "We'll check Elliot next."

"Dent's more likely." Flass said "He's the one with a justice complex, and you said it yourself, he didn't kill any-"

"Dent got into Gotham Academy on a scholarship. His Father cut him off at the age of 15 because he said he wanted to be a civil lawyer rather than corporate." Jim pointed out "Trust me, he doesn't have the resources to get and run a tank."

"Okay, fine, Elliot." Flass said, shaking his head "Oh wait, I already called. He was busy graduating college. At Oxford. You know, in England?"

"And you're only telling me this now?" Jim said, narrowing his eyes "Flass, we might have the same rank, we might be working this together, but I am your commanding officer. You _will_ tell me any time something comes up!"

Flass stood up, walking over to Jim. After a second's pause, he picked Jim up by the scruff of his collar.

"Don't _ever_ talk to me like that again, Gordon." He hissed "You do, and I won't hesitate to put one between your eyes. This is Gotham. Cop killers everywhere, I dump you in an alley, it won't get back to me."

"Put me down, Flass." Jim said, before jamming the object he held into Flass' side "Unless _you_ want to be the one who gets shot."

Flass paused for a second. Then, he lowered Jim to the floor, smirking. Finally, he moved away, laughing.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Jimbo." He said, laughing to himself "I'm impressed."

"Full of surprises." Jim said, subtly putting the stapler in his hand back on the desk.

...

Bruce stepped out of the makeshift armoury in the warehouse, having just finished gearing up. He'd spent the last week since finding out Napier was out tracking him. He'd kept an eye on Jim and Flass' investigation, too, but since Batman hadn't made anymore appearances, they didn't have any more to go on. He'd been careful to leave it at that, at Alfred's behest.

Now, however, he had to make a move. Napier had taken back his Red Hood gang, and he was planning something down at Ace Chemicals. It was a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises, so Bruce had the ability to easily get access to every function in the place. That, combined with the portable hacking device Lucius had provided him with, and the explosive gel compound he'd been given, would provide him with ample ability to take down the entirety of Napier's gang without alerting anyone to his presence.

This was about being smart, not being strong. First, he'd pick The Red Hood gang apart. Then, he'd confront their leader, show him what he made. Then, he'd finally have justice.

He'd finally have revenge for his parents' death.

...

Napier walked up to the front door of the Ace Chemicals building. They had a new chemical that, apparently, could eat through anything. The sort of thing that'd make bank vaults a piece of cake. Gotham would be their playground.

It had been a long time since he'd actually worn the red mask the leader of the gang traditionally wore whilst his guys wore their red balaclavas. However, he'd felt it appropriate, to show them who was still boss. After his little stint in Blackgate for holding up that jewellery store, he'd felt the need to come back and let them all know he was the boss. Not Falcone, who'd been working to absorb the Red Hood gang into his own organisation.

Napier grimaced. It _disgusted_ him that someone as incompetent as Falcone, who ran the city merely due to numbers rather than actual intelligence, could have got so many of his guys to join him.

As he walked through the doors, he aimed the revolver in his hand off to his left, putting a few bullets in the chest of the guard. No witnesses for this. He couldn't risk going back to Blackgate, or worse still, Arkham. He'd heard about the experiments of the warden, Doctor Crane. He didn't fancy becoming a subject in them.

...

Bruce skulked along the rafters of the Ace Chemicals building. He'd arrived a few minutes after Napier and his crew, having glided over from the top of Wayne Tower, a few blocks away. Now, he was a predator, and the entire Red Hood gang was his prey.

Below him, a man in a balaclava was working on hacking into the computer system. He was the first one who had to go. Without him, it'd take them several times longer to get what they wanted. That's what Bruce needed to make sure he had; time. While the suit and brace kept his healing wound from hampering him too much, he'd be lying if he said he was at his best right now.

He gently dropped down from the rafters, landing behind the man. The man briefly looked, before looking back to the computer, then finally back to Bruce, his eyes wide in horror. Bruce didn't give him a chance to react, instead swinging a punch, hitting the man in the gut, before kneeing him in the same spot, the man sinking to the floor, Bruce putting his boot on the man's throat.

"How many of you are there?" Bruce growled.

"Twelve other guys, including the boss..." The man choked "Please don't kill me..."

"Where is he?!" Bruce said, leaning down towards the man "Tell me!"

"I... I don't know..." The man stammered out "By now, he could be in any number of places."

Bruce didn't bother pressing the man for more information, instead removing his boot from the man's neck and kicking him in the face, knocking him out. He dragged the man's body over to a locker, opening it and putting him inside, spinning the dial to lock the door before punching the dial, crushing it into the lock so the only way to get the man out would be to cut him out.

He pulled his grapnel from his belt, firing it at the ceiling, not noticing the red light flashing on the desk as he was propelled back to the rafters.

...

Jim and Flass pulled up to the Ace chemicals building. They were flanked by a series of Police Cars, both marked and unmarked. As the pair got out of the car, an object was hurled from the second floor window, landing on the windscreen of the cop car about five metres from the building.

Jim and Flass approached, checking the object; it was a guy in a suit with a red mask on. Jim grimaced.

"The Red Hood gang." He said, checking the man's pulse "He's got a pulse. Get an ambulance here!"

Jim pulled his gun from the holster inside his overcoat, checking the clip in it. He turned to Flass.

"Wait here, help co-ordinate things." He said, before yelling "Ramirez! Essen! You're with me. Bullock, make sure that man gets medical attention."

He didn't wait for his orders to be followed, instead leading Detective Essen and Officer Ramirez into the building. There'd be more cops there shortly, but they needed to keep things under control, and frankly, he didn't trust Flass not to just let the Red Hood gang go. Bullock would keep him in check, while the other two good cops he had went in with him.

As the three of them began to make their way through the building, there was a sound from one of the floors above them. Gun shots. A scream. Then silence.

"What the hell..." Ramirez said, looking to Jim "Captain?"

"Stay sharp." Jim said "You two take this level, I'm going upstairs."

Jim split off from the group, making his way upstairs. As he got to the top, there was the sound of glass breaking as the lightbulb in the light above his head shattered. Beside him there was the sound of something small and metal clattering along the floor. Jim pulled his torch from his belt, turning it on as he looked at the metal object on the floor.

It was a small throwing projectile shaped like a bat.

...

Bruce skulked along the ceiling. There were three men left, including Napier. In addition to that, there were two cops downstairs, round about now they'd be finding one of the three remaining men and taking him down. Sure enough, there was the sound of a gunshot before the faint clicking of handcuffs.

Below Bruce, however, was his current target. He didn't know if he felt comfortable about it, but it needed to be done.

He dropped down silently, landing behind Jim. Slowly, he moved up to him, before spinning Jim round, knocking his gun from his hand and pinning him to the wall by the throat.

"How many more are coming?" Bruce growled, being sure to keep his grip slack.

"Who are you?" Jim retorted, shining the light in Bruce's face, disorienting him enough to allow Jim to get free and dive for the gun on the floor, aiming it at Bruce's head "I know that chest piece of yours is bulletproof, but what about the mask?"

"I'm not your enemy." Bruce said, maintaining the voice from the growl whilst dropping the aggression "I'm just trying to make sure a guilty man doesn't get away."

"How?" Jim asked "By throwing him out of another window? Who is it you're here for?"

"Their leader." Bruce said simply, noticing something over Jim's shoulder "Captain, behind you!"

Jim span, the bullet from the thug behind him's gun skimming his shoulder before bouncing off of Bruce's chest piece to the floor. As Jim flinched, Bruce dived forward, tackling the man to the floor and knocking him out with a punch to the face. He turned back to Jim.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"I've been shot." Jim said sardonically as Bruce turned and began to walk away "Thank you."

"You don't have to do that." Bruce said before grappling back to the rafters, saying quietly to Jim "Give me five minutes then come up to the walkway."

He skulked away, slowly moving towards the walkway over a bubbling green vat, where a man was stood at a computer terminal, playing with controls.

"Jack Napier!" He roared as he descended to the walkway "You're going to Blackgate!"

"Who's Napier?" The man asked, laughing inside his red helmet "Never heard of him."

"Don't lie to me!" Bruce growled, advancing on Napier and punching him in the gut, grabbing the gun from inside Napier's pocket and tossing it into the vat below, the liquid beginning to bubble more as Bruce ripped the helmet from Napier's head "You're scum! You killed them!"

He threw the helmet down into the vat before tossing Napier against the railing of the walkway, the metal denting. Bruce lunged at the other man, swinging a punch and having it dodged, the blades on his gauntlet slashing a deep gash beside Napier's mouth, before a similar thing happened on the other side of Napier's mouth.

"GCPD! Freeze!" Came a voice from behind Bruce "Jack Napier, I'm arresting you on suspicion of robbery. Batman, you're under arrest for assault, grievous bodily harm, destruction of property and assaulting police officers."

"No!" Bruce yelled, spinning back to Napier, punching him in the face, the railing giving way behind Napier, Bruce narrowly catching the man by his arm "You're not getting away that easily! Captain, a little help please!"

Bruce began pulling his parents' murderer back up. As he did, he felt a stab of pain in his left shoulder as Jim tried to help him pull the man up by gripping his injured shoulder.

Bruce watched in horror as his hand's grip slackened, Napier slipping from it and beginning to fall. It was like an old movie, where the bad guy would fall to their deaths in slow motion.

Except this was real. And he was responsible.

He watched Napier slowly sink into the chemicals, screaming in pain as he did. He felt Jim grab him by the arm, pulling him up. He didn't register the first handcuff going on, registering the presence of the second as it came close to his free right wrist.

He jerked his elbow back, hitting Jim in the gut. As he spun, he slammed his right wrist down on his left, the blades on it breaking the handcuffs. He pulled a small pellet from his belt, tossing it to the floor, smoke beginning to erupt from it. He grabbed Jim as he fired his grapple, pulling them both out through the skylight.

"It was an accident." He said to Jim, pausing "Your sharpshooter the other night injured me, and when you grabbed my arm... I... I couldn't..."

"Accident or not, you killed him." Jim coughed out, reaching for his gun "I'm sorry, but-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Bruce threw another smoke pellet down before diving off the roof and descending to his waiting car below. He needed to get out of there. Then, he needed to come up with a new rule or two.

 **...**

 **So, here we have Bruce finally catching up to and (apparently) killing his Parents' killer. I will confirm this is the origin of Batman's no kill rule; before this it's a preference, now it's a solid rule. R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	13. The Bat and the Cat

Bruce walked down the street in Gotham, wearing an overcoat and fedora with sunglasses by way of something to conceal his identity. He looked more like a 1930's detective than a billionaire playboy. That was fine by him.

He stopped outside an electronics store, looking at the screens in the windows. They showed the news, with an image of a red oval with a bat symbol in the middle of it. The headline at the top of the screen read _'Bat-Man wanted for murder of mobster.'_

Bruce grimaced. It wasn't like that. He'd left intending to kill Napier, but had decided against it. Now, he found himself sickened that he'd even considered it.

But it had happened. Napier was dead because he'd failed. He'd failed to save the killer of his parents. And that bothered him.

The irony wasn't lost on him. However, he had to move forward. But no one else was going to get killed because of his failures. Never again.

...

Selena sat in the penthouse suite she'd rented for her visit to Gotham. There was something she was interested in. A gem recovered by an archaeological team and donated to the Gotham museum.

Appraisals thus far had valued it at around half a billion dollars. Even after being cut down into smaller gems, it would still maintain a value of around 400 million. More than enough for her to get out of the game on.

She moved to the newspaper on the dining table. She smirked at the image on it.

"Well then, big guy." She said to herself as she looked at the image of a stylised bat logo "Guess I'll be seeing you soon."

...

Alfred walked into Bruce's bedroom. There were a number of bags from electronics stores dotted around the room. At the dresser, Bruce was sat down, the gauntlets from his suit set down, with a couple of touch screen phones half disassembled beside them.

"Project?" Alfred asked, looking at the gauntlets "What exactly are you trying to do?"

"I want to incorporate video feeds into the gauntlets, save me from constantly asking you to tell me what's going on in the next room." Bruce said as he threw the iPhone he'd been working on against the wall "Is there a windows alternative to iPhone? I can't work with this, and even a billionaire can't afford to keep breaking those things forever."

"The Gotham Museum's unveiling of the Conroy Emerald is in two hours sir. Since Wayne Enterprises funded the expedition, you're expected to give the keynote speech." Alfred said, ignoring Bruce's comment "Might I suggest that you get ready, whilst I call Mr. Fox regarding your request?"

"That's tonight?" Bruce said, standing up "Okay, you call Lucius. What's the dress code?"

"Formal, sir." Alfred replied "Might I suggest you wear a suit _without_ a bat theme?"

Bruce half sniggered to himself. He didn't laugh very often, so Alfred was happy to see the 22 year old laughing for once. It almost made him look like a normal young man. With several billion dollars. And a warehouse bunker with a larger armoury than the GCPD.

"I'll find something." Bruce said "Let me know if Lucius needs to talk to me."

...

Bruce walked in to the Museum hall. If it wasn't for the fact that he was meant to give the speech, and he needed to keep up appearances, he'd probably have not bothered coming.

However, there he was, wearing a black tuxedo. He'd got it from a tailor in Burnley he'd been going to since he got his first suit at age four. It was the same one his father had used, and that his grandfather had used. It wasn't something he liked wearing if he was honest; he felt more comfortable in his uniform than he did in monkey suits.

He had to wear them though, the curse of being a billionaire. Fortunately, he also knew some people at the party.

"Jim!" He called over to Gordon, who was stood with his wife, a blonde woman in her early forties, and their teenage daughter, a red head in glasses with an iPhone in her hand, which Bruce nodded to as he reached them "You'll want to get Barbara a new phone. That thing's a piece of sh-"

"Anyway." Jim's wife cut Bruce off "Nice to see you, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for the invite."

"Jim told me you're an antiquities buff, so I had you hooked up." Bruce said, smirking "Call it an anniversary present."

"Oh, thanks." She replied, slapping Jim in the stomach "See, Jim. _Someone_ remembers."

"I do too." Barbara cut in "Nice to see you, Bruce."

"You too, kid." Bruce said "How old are you now, eighteen, nineteen?"

"Seventeen." Jim corrected, smirking as he said to Bruce "Do I need to remind you I have a gun?"

"Relax, I'm not into breaking the law." Bruce said, looking over Jim's shoulder to the bar "Scandal, on the other hand, I'm all for. I think I see Anne Hathaway at the bar, and I've got myself a little crush. Excuse me."

He moved away from Jim and his family, walking over to the bar. He stood beside a brunette in a long black cocktail dress with long dark brown hair. He leant on the bar, waiting for the bartender to come over.

"Jack Daniels and coke, hold the ice." He said, pausing as he said to the brunette "Even out of a cat suit, I'd recognise that ass. What are you doing here, Selena?"

"You remember me, I'm touched." The woman replied, smirking "Was that Captain Gordon you were just talking to? Isn't he hunting you?"

"No, he's hunting a vigilante I have nothing to do with." Bruce corrected, less than convincingly "Listen, last time I saw you, we didn't leave things on the best of terms."

"You mean when you accused me of being sixteen when I was actually _older_ than you?" She asked indignantly, laughing slightly as she said "In retrospect, I probably should've been flattered. You're off the hook, kid. On one condition."

"What's that?" Bruce asked as his drink was set down on the bar, Bruce handing the bar tender a hundred dollar bill "The next however many drinks that buys are on me. Get yourself one from that too."

"Very kind of you." Selena cut the bar tender off with a smirk as she grabbed Bruce's hand "Let's dance."

She pulled him over to the dance floor, half of his drink spilling as she did. He quickly knocked the rest back, setting it down on a nearby table before being pulled back to start dancing.

"So what _are_ you doing here?" Bruce asked again, his tone more serious "Last time I saw you, you were stealing from Black Mask for Penguin."

"Yeah, I'm not in the corporate field anymore." She said "What about you?"

"I'm a billionaire with a multi-billion dollar company. I'll always be corporate." Bruce quipped "I'll ask again; what are you doing here?"

"I heard you were giving the key note speech, thought it'd be nice to catch up. Especially given recent events." She said "Is it you? Are you the Bat man?"

"I don't know what you mean." Bruce lied again, pausing before adding "But if I did, I'd point out that it's _Batman._ Not _the Bat man."_

"Noted." She smirked, pausing before she spoke again "I'm in town to pick something up. Not for me, for a charitable organisation."

"Named the Selena Kyle foundation?" He quipped "Who hired you?"

"Professional etiquette dictates I can't discuss clients." She replied, leaning in and whispering "Especially not with masked vigilantes."

"Who's wearing a mask?" He replied "I'm just taking an interest in a friend's work."

"So we're friends now?" She said indignantly.

"Last time we met, you were after a bit more than that." He said, smirking.

Selena's smile faltered. A second later, she regained her composure, before leaning in again.

"Meet me on the roof in ten minutes. Get changed first. I'll tell you whatever you want to know" She said, kissing him hard before turning and walking off, tossing back with a smirk "Don't keep me waiting, big guy."

...

Bruce stepped onto the roof. He'd taken Selina's suggestion and changed into the uniform. He was late, and that was by design. He didn't want to totally admit his identity to Selina. Even if they both knew she was smart enough to put two and two together.

"You're late." Came a voice from behind him, Bruce turning to see Selina stood there in a black leather catsuit, a whip on the belt and a domino mask with small points over the eyes on her face "What took you?"

"You're assuming I was in there." Bruce half growled, trying to distort his voice.

"C'mon Bruce, don't play me for the idiot." She said, slapping him in the gut and immediately rubbing her hand "Damn, what's that thing made out of?"

"Not rubber." He quipped "My designer considered putting nipples on it, something about wanting it to look like a Greek statue, but I thought it sounded like a bad idea."

"Good call." Selina said, smirking as she nodded down "Then again, you might benefit from the codpiece I can imagine that'd include."

"Let's not x-rate this conversation." Bruce said, rolling his eyes inside the cowl "Now, tell me, who called you to Gotham?"

"I saw the article." Selina said, looking away.

"Don't lie to me!" Bruce growled, stepping forward and closing the gap between them "Who called you to Gotham?!"

"Is this your interrogation tactic, yell at them?" She smirked "Not going to lie, it's kind of hot."

"Not now Selina." He said, before she kissed him "You're not getting out of telling me what I want to know that easily."

"Who said I'd go easy?" She said with a wry grin before pouncing on him.

They kept the masks on. It was better that way.

...

Carmine Falcone stood in his penthouse, overlooking the Gotham docks, the lights outside reflecting against his forehead. It was a quiet night. The GCPD were no problem for it, and there'd been no reports of the Bat man. That meant he could keep his smuggling operation going full swing for the evening.

There was a sound behind him as the door opened then closed. Falcone didn't bother turning around when he heard the click of the gun being cocked.

"Let me guess; Cobblepot sent you?" Falcone spoke, hearing a small snigger in response "Or Maroni?"

"Oh, not quite, Carmine, my friend." The owner of the gun said, his voice familiar, and yet higher than any that Falcone remembered from a man "You let me go into that plant."

"Which plant?" Falcone said, turning around and gasping "My god..."

The man in front of him had the face of Jack Napier, scars on either side of his mouth burnt shut, both the scars and his lips being bright red. His skin had been bleached and his hair was a bright, almost luminous green. He wore the tattered remains of his purple suit, a long barrelled revolver in his hand.

"What's the matter, Carmine?" Napier said with a laugh "You look like you saw a ghost..."

"Jack... But... The Bat man killed you..." Falcone said, looking his former friend up and down "My god, what happened to you?"

"Well, you know what they say." Napier replied, beginning to laugh "Whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you stranger!"

Napier laughed as he pulled the trigger, shooting Falcone between the eyes. The doors burst open, a pair of thugs running in, Napier spinning and shooting both of them in the chest. He laughed as he walked towards them, standing over the thugs.

"Sorry boys, but we're under new management." He said, shooting both men in the face "You always were a bad joke. Time for this city to get a better class of criminal."

...

Bruce stood, doing his utility belt up once more. He heard a sound from behind him, barely turning as he spoke.

"Are you okay?" He asked, dropping the growl.

"I think you could hear I'm a lot more than 'okay.'" Selina quipped "Unless you're not the detective you'd like to think?"

Bruce didn't respond, instead pressing two fingers to his earpiece as he heard something. He narrowed his eyes.

"I need to get to the docks." He said, turning to face her "You need to avoid stealing anything until I get back. We'll talk about what to do with you then."

"Oh, I think you know purrrrfectly well what to do with me." She smirked as she ran a finger over the emblem on his chest.

"Good night, Selina." Bruce said, turning and diving off the roof into the alley below, the car appearing from inside a hollow wall and speeding off into the night, seconds before a series of police cars drove past, along with Jim's BMW.


	14. The Docks

Bruce pulled up to the warehouse on the docks, parking discretely under the pier. It was times like this he was grateful for the shallow water, and the waterproofing on the car. The GCPD wouldn't be investigating under the docks for hours yet, which gave him time to do his own investigation.

Of course, he'd need to avoid the GCPD officers on the docks themselves. He'd seen several cars parked up, including both Jim's and Commissioner Loeb's. The presence of the two highest ranking Police Officers in the city meant something big was going down.

Hardly surprising, given these docks were known to be one of the primary operating areas of Falcone's gang. That also meant that a fire fight could break out, with heavy casualties on both sides, purely for the purpose of maintaining appearances. Both Loeb and Falcone saw their people as expendable, if it kept them out of prison.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. He knew how Loeb worked. It'd be the good cops in danger. It'd be _Jim_ in danger. He needed to deal with that problem.

...

Jim walked through the warehouse with Loeb and Flass. Loeb was talking them through what had been reported, whilst Flass checked the ammunition in his gun.

"Any questions?" Loeb asked, looking straight at Jim.

"Yeah, I do have one." Jim replied, looking to Flass "Expecting trouble?"

"It's a murder scene involving gang crime, Jimbo." Flass replied condescendingly "I'm just making sure the Commissioner here doesn't get killed."

Before they could say anymore, there was a sound of someone screaming. The three men ran through, finding Officer Bullock strung up by his feet.

"Get me down from here!" Bullock yelled, pausing "Sirs."

"Get someone in here to cut him down." Loeb said, looking up and around "My god..."

They didn't get another word in, as a large, black and grey mass descended from the ceiling, grabbing Jim and pulling him up into the rafters.

...

Bruce moved away from Jim, letting the older man gain his footing on the narrow beams of the rafters. Jim hesitated, before reaching inside his jacket. As he did, Bruce produced the gun he'd confiscated from the Police Captain.

"I want to talk." Bruce growled "I need information, what's going on here?"

"Like you don't know." Jim said "Falcone's dead and I'm betting you did it!"

"No, I didn't." Bruce replied "I arrived here shortly _after_ you. How could I have killed Falcone in that case of events?"

"How can I believe you?" Jim asked, spitting in a hushed tone "I saw you kill Jack Napier."

"That was an accident. I tried saving him." Bruce said, sighing as he said "Look under the docks, you'll find my car. If I wasn't on your side, I wouldn't tell you that. We want the same thing, Captain. The question is will you accept my help or will you block it?"

Jim paused. He sighed and finally spoke.

"What do you need?"

...

Loeb walked through the building, gun raised. He didn't like Gordon, but letting the bat vigilante make off with him would be an embarrassment to the GCPD, and definitely leave a stain on his record.

He reached the room that was the murder scene, looking around. No sign of Gordon. What was there was a blood stained object on the chest of the victim.

Loeb approached, picking up the object. It was small and flat; a playing card. He flipped it over, squinting to see the image through the blood.

A joker.

He turned to walk out. Someone had killed his business partner. This was no mob hit; the attack patterns didn't conform to it. It was a planned execution.

"You found my calling card then, Gill." Came a voice from one of the shadows, a man slowly emerging, a revolver in his hand "I was hoping you would. After all, you let your little pets come into the chemical plant. I wanted to thank someone for that."

"For what?" Loeb asked as the man slowly moved into the light, revealing a chalk white face, with scarred red lips and bright green hair "What the hell..."

"No way to greet an old friend. Your pet, Captain Gordon, he showed up, tried to save me and accidentally helped with my little rebirth." The man said, shooting Loeb in the chest "I wanted to thank him. Figured helping him get your job was a good way to do it."

The man started laughing maniacally as Flass came walking in. He turned to Flass, fire in his eyes.

"Ooh, goodie." The man said "I needed one more part of the set up before my punch line!"

He shot Flass in the chest, taking him to the floor. He laughed as he moved to the table, picking up a letter opener. He slowly advanced on the whimpering Flass.

"You're looking a little too serious." He said, smiling sadistically "Let's put a smile on that face..."

...

Jim walked into the main office of the building and gasped in horror. There were several bodies, including that of Falcone and Flass. All of them had been shot or stabbed, and had what looked like smiles cut into their face. As he moved over to check the body of Falcone, he heard a gurgly cough.

He turned, seeing Loeb laying there. Blood was streaming from his face, a chair having fallen on his chest, apparently having restricted the blood flow on the gunshot wound in his chest enough to keep him from bleeding out.

"Napier..." He said weakly "Jack... Nap..."

Before he could finish the words, he finally succumbed to his injuries. Jim grimaced as he pulled the radio from his belt. He paused for a moment as he heard something drop lightly behind him.

"They're dead." Batman observed, moving around the room, picking up a bloody object from beside Loeb "A joker..."

"Familiar calling card." Jim said, facing Batman directly "And Loeb said it was Jack Napier. Batman, do you think-"

"We saw him die." Batman replied with a grimace, looking at the men "The cut pattern matches Napier's injuries from when he fell though. Maybe someone trying to emulate Napier's final appearance?"

"He didn't have a bullet hole in his head or chest." Jim observed, sighing as he turned to look back at the bodies "I need to call this in, you'd better get out of here."

"I'm going to investigate the warehouse." Batman said "See if I can find anything."

"Okay, you go ahead, I'll-" Jim began, turning to find himself alone "Just stand here talking to myself I guess."

He shook his head slightly. So Batman was trying to help, and maybe, if what Loeb had told him, and what the calling card suggested, was true, then he wasn't a murderer either. Still, he couldn't help but feel that by not bringing him in this time, he was climbing into bed with the Devil. And one thing he knew from years in Gotham; once you were in bed with the Devil, it was hard to get out of it.

...

Bruce skulked along the rafters, looking around. All the cops had flocked to the office, giving him reign of the place. It also meant he knew anyone he saw was a crook, and he could take them down with extreme prejudice. _After_ he made them sing.

He looked down, seeing a figure moving along, wearing what looked like a tattered suit. He narrowed his eyes before descending to the level below, landing behind the figure. He slowly skulked along, staying low to avoid detection, before rising up and grabbing the figure, spinning them around and gasping in horror, his grip unintentionally loosening.

"What's the matter, Bats?" Napier said with a twisted grin "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Napier didn't wait for Bruce to respond, instead swinging for him, hitting several times in quick succession, slowly bringing Bruce to the floor. Napier wasn't stronger or faster than Bruce, not by a long way, but he was vicious, and his attacks were random. There was no way to predict where to block in time.

"What's the matter, Batman?" He said, laughing "Yeah, I heard your discussion with Jimbo. I'm glad Loeb died when he did. I really, _really,_ hate tattle tales."

Napier kicked Bruce in the ribs, hard. He heard the sound of bones breaking, probably a few of Napier's toes, as well as one or two of Bruce's own ribs. The armour he wore crunched under the impact, Bruce feeling cold air coming through it; the suit had cracked.

"What happened to you..." Bruce said as he struggled to stand "I saw... I _watched_ you die..."

"Yeah, funny thing about that. Those chemicals I took a little dip in?" Napier said, brushing his hand through his hair "They opened my eyes. Showed me what I really am. What life is! One. Big. Joke!"

Napier swung for Bruce again, his attacks continuing randomly. Bruce reached for his belt, firing his grapnel to the ceiling and rapidly ascending.

"What the matter, Bats?" Napier taunted "Can't take a joke?"

"You're not much of a joker..." Bruce retorted, before descending from the rafters, landing on Napier and punching him hard in the face "What's the matter, clown? Can't take a punch?"

Napier looked up, grinning, blood trickling down from the edge of his mouth. Then, he burst out laughing.

"That's it, that's what I've been looking for!" He said as he pulled a revolver from his jacket, aiming at Bruce's chest and pulling the trigger, staggering him "I needed a new name for the new me, and you just figured it out; call me Joker!"

Before Bruce could respond, Napier... _Joker,_ shot out a steam pipe on the wall, causing a screen to appear between him and Bruce. As he did, Jim came running round the corner, seeing Bruce lying on the floor. He moved over to Bruce, helping him to his feet, only to have his hand shrugged off.

"I'll be okay." Bruce growled "You were right. It was Napier. I'm going after him!"

Bruce began to move off before stopping, wincing in pain. Jim made to approach but Bruce held up a hand, shaking his head.

"I'll be okay." He repeated.

Bruce tossed a capsule on the floor, smoke rapidly escaping it. When it cleared, Jim picked up the open capsule, reading the words on it.

"Wayne Enterprises..." He said "Bruce, what've you gotten yourself into..."

...

Bruce pulled into the warehouse a couple of hours later. He'd swept the docks and surrounding area, but no sign of Joker. He jumped out of the car as the canopy slid open, removing the headpiece of his suit and tossing it to the floor in frustration. As he did, Alfred came through from his position behind the computer.

"No sign of Napier, sir?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Two hours." Bruce replied, narrowing his eyes "And not so much as a green hair."

He pressed a control on his belt, causing the cape to detach from his shoulders. As he moved through to the armoury, Alfred picked up the fabric, folding it and setting it down on a table. He felt something in the bass, something rigid.

Alfred picked up the cape again, rummaging through it until he pulled out a thin, card like object, a small red light flashing on it. He paused before tossing the object back into the cape and running through, grabbing Bruce.

"We have to get out of here!" Alfred yelled, pulling Bruce to the elevator and hitting the control "Computer, engage lockdown protocol, full explosive containment."

"What?" Bruce asked, his eyes widening as he saw his cape enveloped in a ball of flames with a loud bang, the doors of the elevator barely closing in time to shield him and Alfred from the blast "What the hell?"

"I think that was a calling card from your mate Napier." Alfred said as they reached the top, stepping outside "He wanted you dead."

"No, he didn't." Bruce replied "He had the chance to do that. This was a test. Joker was testing me."

 **...**

 **Sorry about the delay in this chapter. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint. Selena will show up again at some stage, and she won't be too happy with Bruce (would you if someone left you on a rooftop to go kick some butt?) R &R, please, no flames. B.**


	15. The Cave

Bruce moved around the debris of the warehouse. The computer was destroyed, the car was crippled, and while Bruce and Alfred had been protected from the fireball, the suit wasn't in much better condition than the car.

Bruce moved to the armour rack the suit was on, observing the damage to it. It was mostly cosmetic. However, a lot of the electrical components were shot, and to call it compromised in the wake of the explosion would be an understatement. He slammed his fist into the metal frame of the shattered glass casing around the suit, recoiling slightly as he pulled his hand back and removed a small glass splinter.

"Be careful, young man." Alfred said as he entered the warehouse "It looks like Napier's test has crippled the Batman."

"You mean _Joker."_ Bruce corrected as he pulled a band aid from a medkit under the hulk of the computer, putting it on his computer "At least _something_ survived."

"Well, regardless of what he wants to call himself, there's not much you can do with this now." Alfred said "However, I might have an idea."

"What's that?" Bruce asked, cocking an eyebrow as Alfred gestured to the door "Road trip?"

"Trust me, Master Bruce." Alfred said with a smirk "It'll be worth it."

Bruce sighed before making for the exit. Whatever Alfred had to show him was probably in better condition than the warehouse anyway.

...

Bruce and Alfred walked into Bruce's Father's study. Bruce watched as Alfred moved to the piano in the corner, keying in a few notes. As he did, there was the sound of a mechanical lock unlocking, the grandfather clock in the corner sliding into the wall and behind the bookcase. Inside the alcove, a dull light came on.

"This way, sir." Alfred said, leading the way into the alcove, the grandfather clock sliding back into position behind Bruce as he followed Alfred to the stone staircase behind it "Your ancestors worked in the railway business, sir. In more ways than one. Wayne Manor was built in the 19th Century as the home of Alan Wayne and his wife. That was it's official purpose. However, whilst I was going over some old papers for the purpose of filing them away, I found an old journal of Alan's. Wayne Manor was a front, sir, for the transportation of freed slaves."

"Loving the history lesson, but I'm pretty sure we're not in a secret alcove for one." Bruce said "What's going on?"

"Well, after finding that, I dug out the blueprints of Wayne Manor. I'd like to reaffirm, sir, that I don't approve of this... _Crusade_ of yours. However, if you insist on continuing to pursue it, I must insist security is more of a concern." Alfred said "The house is built on a network of caves. That's why it was built here. I've been doing some work down here, with the help of Lucius, and Mr. Allen helped speed up the process."

"He'll do that." Bruce quipped as they reached the bottom of the staircase "Okay, that's impressive."

The cavern they'd entered was filled with equipment. There was a large metal armoury in the corner, a super computer that looked to outclass the old one in the centre of the back wall, and what looked like a turn table by a long tunnel leading away from them. Along with this, there was a lab set up in the corner, and a few things Bruce recognised on display; the bat costume his Father had worn to a Halloween party when he was seven, the motorcycle Bruce had rode when he was in his late teens, complete with damage from his and Barry's meeting with the Reverse Flash, and the makeshift suit he'd made during his training with the League of Assassins.

"I thought you'd like it." Alfred said "We've been working on this for a long time. I'd intended to call it a Birthday present but, well, needs must."

"Great, but I'm still lacking gear." Bruce said, before a low roar was heard from the tunnel, a car near identical to the original, only with a light blue trim around the canopy and the wheel arches, and bat emblems on the wheels "Well, there's the car..."

"And the suit's on it's way, Mr. Wayne." Lucius said as he climbed out of the car before a red and yellow streak sped past him, before an armour rack with a new suit, closely matching the original only with a yellow oval circling a bat emblem in the centre of the chest was rapidly assembled.

"You're welcome." Barry said as he slowed down "Listen, Bruce, if you want help with this guy, I can stick around and-"

"No, thank you." Bruce said "You've got your own city to take care of. Besides, your wife would be _very_ annoyed if I kept you away from home."

"True." Barry said with a laugh "Well, if you're sure."

"Yeah." Bruce said, pausing before he continued "Actually, I could use a hand with one thing."

"Which is?" Barry asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I need you to go to the warehouse and get a blood sample that was present on my original gauntlets from my fight with Napier, then I need a chemical sample from Ace." Bruce said "I want to know exactly what that vat did to him. He was stronger, faster than he was before. I need to know why if I'm going to fight him."

"You got it." Barry said with a nod before speeding out.

Bruce turned to Alfred and Lucius, folding his arms across his chest.

"How did you two manage this right under my nose?" He said, looking around the cave.

"It wasn't the hardest thing in the world. You're here one night a week _at most."_ Alfred said, a cheeky smile forming on his face as he added "Besides, have you forgotten who used to hide your Christmas and Birthday presents? They were always bought a good six months in advance."

"Point taken." Bruce said "Either way, thank you, though why the symbol change?"

"It was Mr. Allen's idea." Lucius said with a small laugh "He said adding a shape round the logo made it look cooler."

"Not exactly a concern for me." Bruce said, rolling his eyes as Barry sped back into the cave "What took you?"

"I was gone, like, a minute." Barry protested as he held up a pair of evidence bags, one with a small plastic pot in it, the other with one of the blades from Bruce's old gauntlets "Special delivery."

"A minute's slow for you." Bruce noted, taking the bags "Get back to Central City, I'll check in if I need anything. Give your wife my best."

"You should swing by for dinner sometime." Barry said "I'm sure Iris would love to pick your brains."

"Off the record, of course." Bruce said with a smirk "I don't give interviews. Not even to people whose weddings I attended."

"I'll try to convince her of your terms. See you around." Barry said before speeding out of the cave.

"This could take some time." Bruce said as he moved over to the crime lab area, beginning to prepare to test the blood samples and the chemicals "You two may want to get going, I know it's late."

"I don't know, I could go for a cup of coffee." Lucius said.

"We only have tea I'm afraid." Alfred noted.

"That's what I meant..." Lucius lied as the two older men left, leaving Bruce to his work.

...

Joker walked into the Maroni Casino. He wanted to see the boss of the place, Salvatore Maroni. After all, he'd had his meeting with Falcone, and that had gone exactly as hoped. That had been the night before, and now, he needed to convince Maroni to see things his way. Unless he wanted to end up like Falcone, of course.

"Sorry pal, strict dress code." A large, African American man said as he approached Joker with a sneer "No clowns allowed."

"Not even an old friend?" Joker asked with a grin, reaching for his lapel and squeezing the flower on it, a clear liquid firing from it and hitting the man in the face, a sizzling sound coming from him as he screamed in pain "You may want to get that looked at, 'pal.'"

Joker stepped over the goon as he fell to the floor, dead, people beginning to scream in horror. Joker reached inside his jacket, pulling a small automatic pistol with a very large clip from it. He began firing around, killing and injuring various patrons of Maroni's casino as he laughed maniacally. Finally, he reached the office, grabbing the body of a dead goon and hurling it through the door.

"Hello, Sal." Joker said as he walked through the door, pointing the gun at Maroni "Please, don't get up."

"Who the hell are you?" Maroni asked, Joker's face becoming serious for a moment before the grin reformed as Maroni said "Joey?"

"Joe Chill, Jack Napier, Sal Valestra, all those guys, all those made up names, they're gone." Joker said "Batman helped me deal with that. Call me _Joker."_

"What happened to you?" Maroni questioned "Last I heard, you were at Ace when-"

Maroni was cut off as he screamed in pain in response to Joker squeezing the trigger, a bullet lodging itself in Maroni's shoulder. Joker leapt across the desk, tackling the mobster to the ground while laughing.

"What's the matter, Sal?" He asked "It's just a flesh wound!"

"You're crazy! Maroni screamed "Get off of me!"

"Oh, I am getting off on-" Joker began before his smile faltered "Oh. Never mind. Here's how it's going to work."

...

Bruce finally finished his analysis. He'd checked and rechecked the results a few times. Near as he could tell, Joker's cells had been corrupted by the chemicals; the process would've been agonising, enough to de-sensitise anyone to some degree. That's why Joker had seemed to be hitting so hard; he'd been almost unaware of how hard he was hitting, due to a lack of feeling. Only the most extreme pain responses were registering for him.

He'd not been any stronger. Just numb.

He keyed in a few commands on the computer to file away his results. He was glad that Lucius hadn't decided to overhaul the OS on the new computer; it was the same system, just faster.

As the files finished allocating to the locations he'd specified, a red light in the corner of the controls flashed up. It was one of the new systems Lucius had fitted, and unfortunately, there was no manual for the computer. Bruce pressed the button, a map of Gotham coming up with a red blinking light on it as audio began.

" _Dispatch, we've got reports of a disturbance at the Maroni Casino."_ Came the voice of a woman on the Police Scanner that had engaged.

" _Understood."_ Came another voice that Bruce recognised as belonging to Jim _"Unit 0539 en route now."_

The line cut as Bruce stood, moving towards the armoury. He had a new suit and new car to test.

Tonight was a good night.


End file.
